


The Art of You

by mr_mustache_penis



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Ace Keith, Allura is the Beyonce of Dance, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), F/M, Fluff, Keith has an Orphanage Family guys, Keith is an art student, Lance Is Trying His Best to Make His Family Proud, M/M, Mutual Pining, Orginal Character is Ace, Original Character has Vitiligo, Shiro is a Drama King (literally and figuratively), Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Texan Keith (Voltron), Texan!Keith, The TINNIEST Bit of Angst, art college au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2018-10-21 10:59:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 90,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10683918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mr_mustache_penis/pseuds/mr_mustache_penis
Summary: Keith is just an ordinary art student with an extraordinary eye for people, and when he runs head first into Lance's life, everything changes.It doesn't take long for them to see the art in each other.





	1. Small Talk for Strangers

**Author's Note:**

> HEY EVERYONE!
> 
> After a long hiatus, I'm back, with some new content, as well as updates happening soon for my pre-existing works.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> *Warning for a little violence and use of a homophobic word*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY EVERYONE. DISCLAIMER (As of 1/13/18):
> 
> It's come to my attention several times that I was wrong about Coran's accent. His VA is from New Zealand, and while it was ignorant of me for not looking him up while writing, I have made a plan to correct it in story, when Keith runs into Coran again, towards the end of the story.
> 
> I'm sorry if I have offended anyone. I appreciate every one telling me and I promise it won't happen again.
> 
> Thank you.

Keith knew two things for certain:

One, Redbull and Monster were the worst idea for breakfast.

Two, his professor was a complete wackjob.

When he signed up for Advanced Traditional Art, he expected his professor to be, of course, a more stoic, older person. Preferably with gray hair and some sort of artistic wisdom. Not the physical incarnation of Nigel Thornberry.

Even his entrance was dramatic. The door slammed open, jarring some of the students out of their mid morning class naps, and a tall ginger man with the bushiest mustache stomped through the door. Keith stared, a little wide eyed, at the man twirling his mustache and squinting at the class. He was the last person Keith expected to be teaching them. The man had on socks with sandals, for crying out loud!

“Who knows the saying ‘Draw what you see, write what you know.’?” His Australian accent was less of a surprise than it should have been.

A few people raised their hands. Keith sensed it was going to end up a trick question, and kept his hands in his lap.

The professor looked over the students. “Well, I want you all to throw that philosophy out the window.” He turned sharply and walked up to the white board, uncapping a marker from the tray and noisily writing “Professor Coran” in big, bold capital letters. "A lot of things are going to be my way, or the highway. And the best part about that, is you all have to figure out what my way even is. Because hell if I know." He gauged everyone’s reaction to his statement. Plenty of people were confused, including Keith, but this was just a tactic. Like drill sergeant at boot camp. He was sure of it. He had endured a lot to get where he was, and some backwards ass teacher wasn’t going to stop him. “So if you don’t like that, I suggest you find another way to make up your credit. Because you will not pass.”

Keith sat there as a couple students, some people he knew since his first year there, walked out. He was disappointed. There was no way a teacher, no matter how outlandish, would fail them on the basis of being unable to understand instructions. They would have been reported to ratemyprofessor.com.

“Now that we have them out of the way,” he said, referring to the ones that just left. The brown leather satchel at his side was unceremoniously dropped on the front desk. “In my class, imagination is key, and the only thing traditional about this class is the medium in which we express ourselves.” The satchel was opened, and Professor Coran pulled out a stack out papers. He gave them to the front row, and told them to pass them to the side, and back. “This is your itinerary for the semester. I suggest you come to class every day so I can explain each assignment as they’re about to be due. I expect full creativity from you all.”

As Keith stared at his itinerary, he had to help but wonder if this was all worth it. He couldn't go back, but every day was a risk to his escape the more he doubted himself.

 

“So your teacher is a little coo coo. At least has hasn’t thrown anything at you guys yet,” said Shiro optimistically.

While that was true, Keith was still having problems interpreting is teachers instructions. Sure, the assignments themselves were straight-forward: draw this, sketch that. But when Coran added to the assignment, giving them vague instructions on what he wanted, it was like Keith was being personally flipped upside down. Art was supposed to be… well, art was never easy. But it wasn’t supposed to be whatever his professor wanted. He was like an over-demanding Deviantart commissioner, changing what he wanted and still Keith somehow got it wrong.

“You have a different type of patience for people,” Keith told his roommate. Shiro was a senior in the drama department, who transferred from another college last year. He was a last minute roommate replacement, seeing as Keith’s last roommate left to study abroad for the semester. He used to live across the hall from them, and his exploits were legendary, especially those concerning a certain dancing student. But after being around him for a week, Keith came to his own conclusion that Shiro was a pretty laid back guy.

“And your patience is…?”

“Nonexistent.”

Shiro hung his head. “I don’t know what I expected.”

Keith laid back into his bed and let out a long, drawn out groan, that slowly grew louder until it petered out.

Shiro’s head suddenly snapped up. “You need to get out.” He clapped his hands together.

“I’m not leaving so you can screw around with-”

“No, I meant, like, to get some air. Obviously, being in here and thinking about your nutty professor is not doing you any favors,” he told him. Shiro was right. Sitting and moaning was as much help as Moaning Myrtle complaining about her death. “You have other classes to worry about.”

“And go… where?” Keith sat up to look at Shiro dubiously.

“To the beach. You don’t have anymore classes, right?” Shiro leaned against the counter on his good arm. Keith shook his head. “Then go. Relax.” He pointed to the sketch book sitting on Keith’s desk. “Take that with you. Clear your head. Just don’t draw anyone without their permission.”

That seemed like an odd request.

“Why would I draw someone at the beach?” Keith honestly didn’t want to even touch his sketch pad, let alone draw a complete stranger.

“Practice? I dunno,” he shrugged. “I had to follow a stranger for five hours of the day for a drama assignment, and I nearly got shanked. You never know how people can be.”

Keith thought that comparison was a bit of a reach, but he wasn’t wrong about people here in south Florida. They were a completely different breed of people from the ones in his Texan town.

“Okay, I’ll go,” he finally agreed, and Shiro smiled.

“You’re gonna feel better, I promise.”

“It better not smell like sex when I get back.” Keith snatched up his bag and threw his sketch pad in there. Shiro made a strangled noise, and Keith hid his small smirk. Exposed.

Keith left his dorm and made his way downstairs. The beach was only a short walk away, thankfully. Hopefully it would help.

 

So far, the beach was not helping. The sky was overcast, not unusual for September, and the sharp smell of salt smacked Keith’s nostrils with each incoming tide. His feet dangled over the edge of the boardwalk, and his jeans were slowly becoming soaked with the mist of the waves. There was a storm coming, Keith guessed, but he promised Shiro he would be out for a few hours, so he decided to stay just a bit longer. The gray waves were actually relaxing enough to get Keith to draw, and he felt a little better about his class. Taking a different approach to art wasn’t going to affect the fact that he had made it out of Texas, and he was going to make it as an artist. Somehow.

He had to.

The winds were picking up, which made trying to sketch a little difficult. One of his looser pages flapped incessantly, annoying him.

 _There must be a thunderstorm coming_ , he thought, gritting his teeth. _I should leave_.

The pages of his sketchbook agreed, because one got swept into the wind.

“Shit!” Keith scrambled after it. He was _not_ going to let that sketch hit the ocean. It meant too much to him.

Fortunately, it got stuck between a couple wooden boards. Keith snatched it up, checking to make sure it was still intact. It was fine. Thank god.

Keith carefully stuck the sketch between the pages of his book, and put it back into his bag. That was enough excitement for one day. Sticking the charcoal pencil behind his ear, he adjusted the strap of his bag to fall right on his shoulder. He let out a deep sigh, one that came from the pit of his stomach. So much for relaxing.

He looked up, watching the random people walk across the sidewalk. They all blended into the background of buildings and the gray sky. Uninteresting.

Save for one person in an olive green jacket, who bounced up the sidewalk in an obvious rhythm, almost as though he was dancing. He caught his eye, and it wasn’t just the orange strip on the side of the jacket. At least, Keith thought it was a guy. You never actually knew based on clothing alone, and his (her? their?) hood was up, so Keith couldn’t see a face. But still, he (let’s assume ‘he’), stood out to Keith. He was like a vibrant splash of paint against the rest of the background, moving fluidly around the sparse collection of people. Keith saw the thin white chords against the guy’s jacket and thought to himself that he must be really immersed in the music, whatever it was that he was listening to. He watched as the guy wove his way around the people who seemed like they were standing still. Whoever this guy was, he was talented, and Keith had seen some pretty talented people in the dance department over the last two years, and this guy was up there, but there was still a natural sloppiness to his movement, like he wasn’t taught to move that way, but the shuffling of his feet and shoulder movements came from a natural urge to move with the unknown beat. Everyone around the mystery dancer paid no attention, as if this was an usual occurrence, but Keith was utterly… _fascinated._

As quick as he appeared in Keith’s line of vision, he was gone, and Keith was left in both a state of awe and confusion. Was that even real? Or just a delusion from the energy drink cocktail from this morning? Either way, he was gone, and now Keith had to get back.

It was raining.

 

The sketch was more or less an accident.

Not really.

The sketch itself was completely on purpose. Leaving it out for Shiro to see was the accident.

“Uh, Keith? Who is that?” he asked, pointing to the open sketch left on the small coffee table. It was of the guy in the olive jacket, sans crowd, in the middle of the sidewalk. He was a bright splash of color, just as he was when Keith saw him, on the gray page. Shiro sat on the couch, judging him. Keith could feel it as he still stared at the ceiling from his bed.

“No one,” said Keith.

“Sure.” Shiro seemed like he was going to press him on the subject. “It’s a nice picture.”

“Thanks.”

“Did he pose for you or-”

“No.”

“ _Keith._ ”

What did he want from him? An essay?

“I saw him today on my way home. I thought he looked interesting. I drew it here,” he explained simply. The image was seared into his memory. What else was he supposed to do?

“I told you to-”

“Be careful, yeah, I know. The guy was dancing in the middle of the sidewalk. I wasn’t like I followed him there.” That was an obvious dig and Shiro took it. “I’m never going to see him again. It’s a cool sketch. Nothing else.”

"I get it, you see people a little differently, but don't get caught up in this guy you'll never see again."

“You’re the one still talking about him,” he shot back, annoyed. This was a boyfriend talk. Shiro seemed to have the strangest idea that Keith needed to date someone, and that every interaction with a guy would somehow lead to him finding the love of his life. It was dumb.

“Okay, okay.” Shiro held up his hands in defeat. “Jeez. I just don’t want you to think he’s your muse or some weird shit like that.”

It was Keith’s turn to be doubtful. “Sure. You know, you’re the one who makes it weird.”

Shiro glared at him. He knew that Keith was right. Drama king.

“Good night, Shiro.”

There was only the soft sound of the TV playing as Keith threw the covers over his head.

 

Another day, another session with Keith’s wacky teacher. This time, he had a model for them to draw.

Keith stared at the teddy bear expectantly, as if it could tell him what to do. Coran told them that the in class assignment was easy: draw the bear, just not as they saw it. All these cryptic directions would be the reason Keith failed the class. What he could possibly draw the damn bear as? A pirate?

Actually…

At the end of the class, Coran collected their drawings and explained the assignment that would be due at the end of the week.

“So, your first assignment is a landscape portrait with a fantastic twist. I expect it to be turned in by the end of class.” The professor twirled the end of his ginger mustache. Keith wasn’t sure if that was a habit or a sign of narcissism.

Keith left with a new sense of dread. Why couldn’t he just tell them exactly what he wanted? Was this some sort of weird weeding out program? From the time Keith applied to this school he knew it was going to be difficult, but art was one of the few things he was good at, and what he wanted to do. He thought about what Gammaw told him, two years ago, when he left in the red Camaro.

_“You’re dedicating yourself to this now. I want you to be the happiest you could ever be in life. Just don’t forget where you come from.”_

Keith never planned on forgetting his family. He just never planned on living in Texas again.

 

“So, how’s it going?” asked Shiro. They were back at their dorm, since each had a break until their next class, and while Shiro was getting ready to go to the gym, Keith sat on the couch, doodling cryptids.

“Good.”

“How’s Professor Wacky?”

Keith snorted. “He’s still… eccentric. He gave us an assignment that’s due at the end of the week.”

“Are you working on it?” Shiro had this way of acting like a dad when it came to his friends. Keith thought it was both endearing and annoying at times, but he’d be lying if he didn’t say it helped keep him on track.

“Sort of.” Keith showed him his cryptid doodles. “I’m thinking about putting one of these in the landscape I was working on. Could you call that a fantastic twist?”

Shiro shook his head. “Man, I don’t even know. You artists put up with a lot.” He slung his gym bag over his shoulder. “Don’t stay cooped up here too long. Go for a run.”

Keith’s eyebrow raised faster than the dorm building elevator. “I feel like all your exercising is making you delirious. Since when do I _ever_ -?”

“Doesn’t hurt to try. Get some sun. Go back out to the beach.”

The beach. Maybe he would have an easier time with this assignment.

“Sure, I’ll go. After my last class,” Keith agreed. Nothing was wrong with the beach. Nothing at all.

 

Keith was hoping to see him again. The guy that stood out him yesterday. The dancer. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but people didn’t really interest him, so this was a new feeling he was dealing with. Curiosity. That’s what it was.

The sun shone down on the water, reflecting and creating the illusion of a thousand silver pieces. Keith was attempting to add a Cthulu-like creature to his gray beach drawing, and it was proving a little harder than it should have been.

“Move it, weirdo.”

Keith turned to look back at the sidewalk, where a guy pushed past the guy in the olive green hoodie. He was in the middle of what looked like a ballet pose, his leg stuck out behind him, one arm extended, but the shove must have brought him back to reality, because he continued to walk down the sidewalk normally. Keith felt sorry for the guy. Maybe could catch up to him and say something?

Or he could just… not.

 

“How was the beach?” asked Shiro. It was his turn to make dinner, and he was in the middle of attempting to make spaghetti for two people.

Keith sat on his bed with one headphone in, and the other ear open for conversation, as he doodled in his sketchbook.

“I think I got my dose of vitamin D for the day,” he replied.

“That’s good.” Shiro smiled, obviously satisfied that Keith was slowly getting comfortable with not being inside all the time. Little did he know that Keith had his own reason for liking the beach. “Do you want red sauce or garlic butter?”

“Red sauce.” Keith turned to a blank page in his sketch book, setting it to the side as Shiro gave him his bowl.

Shiro was a natural observer, and Keith’s sly hiding of his drawings didn’t go unnoticed. It was harmless, but still, Shiro was worried that Keith would become obsessed with this guy. But he didn’t mention it.

Keith, however, could see that Shiro was dying to ask about it. He wasn’t slick, and you think he would be, being an actor and all, but there was nothing subtle at the way he stared at Keith’s sketchbook.

“You know, you could just ask,” said Keith, deadpanned, pointing to the sketchbook.

Shiro coughed. “Um, so I guess you saw him again?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s cool. I mean, two days in a row. That’s kinda weird.”

“Not if you don’t overanalyze it.” Strangers had routines, and jobs, and it wasn’t exactly weird to see them twice in a row. There were classmates that were complete strangers to him that he saw everyday on campus.

“Oh, I mean, I wasn’t-”

Keith popped in his other earbud and ate his spaghetti to the sweet vocals of Hunter Hayes. It was better than Shiro’s ramblings about stranger danger. He was twenty-one years old, he knew what he was doing. And it was nothing stupid.

Just art.

 

He went back.

He wasn’t proud of it either.

Why was he so interested in someone whose face he hadn’t even seen? Just because he stuck out to him like color on a white paper did not mean he had to talk to him. The guy obviously didn’t want to pay attention to the world, and Keith didn’t blame him. And now Keith was guilty of light stalking.

 _This is dumb, Keith,_ he told himself. _You look crazy._

Maybe Shiro was right about the whole muse thing, but you don’t just see someone like that and not try to find out something about them. The Mona Lisa had to be friends with da Vinci, right? Plus, Shiro guilted him into feeling weird about it.

It didn’t look the guy was going to be waltzing past him anytime soon, so Keith made the sane decision to leave.

Shiro didn’t ask him any questions.

 

Keith felt the distinct buzzing of his phone against his hip, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. It was Shiro.

“Hey, what’s up?” he answered.

“Nothing much, just going to celebrate my A on my first thesis of the semester. There’s this beach-side bar called The Comet that serves some pretty awesome sliders. You wanna come down there? My treat.”

Anything that prevented Keith from cooking tonight was always a blessing. “Sure. Who’s going to be there?”

“You know, Allura, Slav, the usual.”

Slav was cool, a little weird but easy enough to get along with. And Allura was really nice. Not bad people to spend an evening with.

“I’ll be there,” said Keith.

“Good. I’m heading down there now. See you soon.”

Keith hung up and put in the name of the bar into Google Maps. It really was along the beach, and not too far from the library on campus. All he had to do was follow the directions on his phone and he’d be there in no time.

 

In hindsight, Keith should have looked up from his phone.

Crashing into people didn’t happen the way it did in movies. It was more of a flurry of movement then some slow motion shot, or a dramatic entanglement of limbs. But still, Keith crashed to the sidewalk, landing hard on his ass and his bag’s contents spilling around him.

“Oh man, I’m sorry!” the guy exclaimed, louder than Keith expected. He pulled out his earbuds and stuck them in his pocket, then reached out his hand to Keith. “Are you okay?” he said in a more normal tone of voice.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” said Keith, wincing. Taking his hand, he was hoisted up on his feet. He looked down at the mess his bag created. “Shit.”

“Oh, here,” the guy in the olive green jacket bent down to help pick up Keith’s stuff. “Let me help you.”

“Uh… yeah, okay.” It didn't hit Keith that he was walking on the same sidewalk that he had been observing the dancer from until he was staring right at him.

The guy pulled his hood back, showing his face, and Keith’s immediate thought was _sunshine_.

He had warm brown skin, and straight brown hair, and when they finally made proper eye contact, the bluest eyes Keith had ever seen. But his smile, set against that sharp as a tack jawline, was what really got him.

“Oh, man, you go to the Art Institute of West Palm?” He was looking down at the maroon folder with the school’s logo. “That place is so cool, my friend Pidge goes there for graphic design.”

Keith snatched the folder from him. “Uh huh. It’s a nice place.” He glanced around for his sketchbook, which hoped to god didn’t fall open. “Did you see my-?” He stared in horror as the guy flipped through his sketchbook. That was a big no no.

“So you’re an artist? You’re really good! I mean, obviously, since you go to school there and all, I just go to the university not to far from you guys.”

Keith wanted nothing more to just rip the book from his hands, but he just watched him silently. Why was this guy so nonchalant while he held Keith’s literally life in his hands?

He continued skimming the pages. “Wow, everything looks so real.”

_Maybe I can snatch it and run._

Too late for that.

Keith could slowly see the recognition dawning in the guy’s eyes as he looked at the next drawing and saw himself. Well.... fuck.

“Hey! That’s me!”

“Okay, you can give that back.” Keith tried to pry the book from his hands, but was unsuccessful, because the asshole decided to hold the book above their heads, out of reach.

“When did you draw this?” he asked.

“I don’t have to tell you that,” said Keith, jumping to get his book. This was bullying. “ _Please_ give it back.”

“Well, you could try explaining why you have a drawing of me, a complete stranger, in your little drawy thing.”

"You were just dancing. On the sidewalk. And I thought it made a cool sketch."

The guy pulled a face. "What I do is none of your business, strange emo guy."

"First of all, no. And second, if you want me to get rid of the drawing I will. I shouldn't have invaded your... privacy." He sounded like he was questioning his own choice of words, but the guy nodded. He looked once more at the drawing, and there was something Keith couldn’t place in his expression.

The guy gave Keith back the drawing. "The name's Lance, if you ever need a title for that."

“Um, thanks.” Keith put the sketchbook back in his bag quickly, as if Lance would snatch it back again.

“You’re welcome.”

Keith never thought he could see sunlight in a person's smile, but Lance exuded sunshine. He glowed.

“Okay, well, see you around, dude. Good luck with your art.” Lance walked around him, leaving Keith to realize they had just been in the middle of the sidewalk for a good twenty minutes, and Shiro texted him five times since he bumped into him, asking where he was.

Keith suddenly turned around. “It’s Keith!” he shouted.

Lance turned to shoot him a quick smile, and continued walking.

He knew one thing. He was _not_ about to tell Shiro.

 

On a good day, Keith was able to go to his favorite cafe in between classes for a nice break. It was a little brick building next to the campus Subway called Cafe Aroma, or Aroma for short. The smell of freshly brewed coffee was like a personal backrub. The comfy couches and end tables were the perfect place to sketch, or just sit and drink something warm.

Keith needed something strong for the rest of the day, since he had closing shift at the arts library, and it was an understatement to call the job boring. Picking up after other students who didn’t have any respect for the books and kicking out the ones trying to spend the night trying to get their essays done was tedious, but hey, it bought him coffee.

The pink armchair was Keith’s personal favorite, and he curled into the cushion with his dark roast mocha. Nothing relieved his stress more.

He heard the bell before he saw the door open, and normally he was so engrossed in his coffee that he didn’t pay attention, but this person was loud.

“Hey Gloria! One caramel latte for Lance!”

Keith snapped his head in the direction of the voice and _there he was._

Without his jacket, too. Those _shoulders._

_Please don’t look this way please don’t look this way._

Keith wished he could bury himself in the folds of the armchair like a crumb. Not only was that physically impossible, but Lance had already spotted him.

“Hi Keith!” Lance waved at him like they were friends. Keith waved back, but he couldn’t hide the look of abject horror on his face.

_Maybe if I look away, he’ll just leave._

Lance grabbed his latte off the countertop and made his way over to where Keith sat. “Hey. I didn’t know you guys knew about this place.”

“What, Aroma?”

“Yeah, I thought you guys would be too good for local coffee, or is that what you guys are into?” he asked, sitting down across from him.

“I mean, I can’t speak for everyone but I like this place.” _Lance has a really presumptuous view of art students_ , Keith thought to himself.

“It’s pretty cool. Hunk loves the scones here. It really helps when you’ve a ton of engineering homework.”

“So, you’re an engineering major?” Keith asked, his curiosity piqued. Lance seemed friendly when he wasn’t holding all of Keiths hard work in his hands. He was certainly a chatterbox.

“Oh… oh god, no! I’m studying biology with a minor in aeronautics.”

That was… impressive.

“You study art, I take it?

“Yeah. Drawing and other traditional media. My roommate does theater,” he told him.

“That has to be fun during rehearsal season.”

Keith giggled. _Giggled._

“I dunno, I don’t even think he comes back to the dorms during tech week.”

“Ha!” Lance glanced down at his blue sports watch. “Oh man, I’m going to be late, and Iverson already hates me. Catch ya later!”

Lance left in a rush, and Keith watched him run past the window. He knew exactly how that went. Some teachers were so strict you’d think they were teaching high school. At least now Lance was even less of a mystery. But Keith had to wonder: why biology and aeronautics?

Maybe he could ask him next time.

 

Back alleys were never a good idea.

Never.

Keith still went through them because honestly, he was a stubborn bitch.

This time, his stubbornness nearly got him killed.

“Hey faggot, nice purse!” Some guy with obvious parent issues shouted at him. His friend laughed like an asthmatic hyena.

All Keith wanted to do was walk to his dorm in _peace._

“Thanks, I got it from your mom.” That was such a straight guy joke. Ugh. Keith kept walking, hoping these goons would leave him alone.

“The fuck did you just say?”

Oh look, the poor guy was offended. What a surprise.

Keith sighed. “Okay, look, you’re barking up the wrong tree. I’m just a broke college student that doesn’t have-”

He was cut off by sound of quick footsteps and a wall of brute force knocking him to the ground.

Really? A back alley fight? Is this what it was coming to?

Keith sprang back to his feet. He lunged at his attacker, throwing a wild punch that he knew wouldn’t land. The attacker responded with a straight gut punch. Keith was hoping to go easy, he remembered the last time he fought someone, and it did not end with the guys looking very pretty.

He managed to sock the guy in his jaw, sending him into the wall. His friend, who had just been standing there, went after Keith, punching him in the mouth.

“You fuck!” Keith shouted. The pungent taste of copper filled his mouth. Something was bleeding.

Keith couldn’t really remember what happened next. Only that he was hit in the head, and went down, and there was another voice, shouting.

“Hey, leave him alone!”

Was that Lance?

“Get away from him you freaks, before a shove you in a sewer where you belong!” He ran up to them, waving his arms, and the two low lifes turned and fled up the alley. Lance didn’t bother to chase them.

He looked at Keith with concern. At least, Keith thought it was concern. It was hard to tell in  the dark.

“You okay? I nearly yelled at them like my mother,” said Lance, helping Keith to his feet. “And I’d hate for you to see me that scary.”

Keith felt the literal orbit of the earth under his feet. “I’m fine.”

“Those guys didn’t take anything, did they?”

“No. Not that I have anything to take,” said Keith. The sad reality of a college student.

Lance snickered, he got the joke. “Okay, well, come on, let’s go.” Lance guided them to the end of the alley where he came from.

“Wait, my dorm is that way,” Keith protested, pointing down the alley.

“I mean, if you want to follow those guys, sure. Be my guest.”

That was sarcasm. Even in his dazed state he could tell that.

They walked out onto the main street, and all the streetlights were both a relief and a pain.

“Where are we going? You and I both know I can’t afford a hospital visit.” Keith was wary of his savior. Why did he keep meeting this guy?

Karma. It could only be karma.

“You know, if you’d stop asking questions, you wouldn’t be so dizzy.”

How was there any possible correlation between those two things?

“Hey, I’m not even-” A sudden sharp pain pounded in his temple, and he nearly fell over.

Lance grabbed him by the waist. “No shit-eating on my watch. Come on, my apartment is just past Aroma.”

_His apartment?_

He must have seen Keith’s eyes widen in panic. “I promise this isn’t some way of, like, stealing your kidney. I need to see if you have a concussion. That guy knocked you pretty hard.”

Keith groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

“What, were you holding back or something?”

Keith didn’t answer.

“Hmmm. You’re an interesting one, Keith.”

He wasn’t sure how to take that.

They continued up the street, passing a dark Aroma and Subway. Keith was suddenly aware of Lance’s hand on his side, as if he didn’t even notice that he was literally being held up. God, he hated being in fights.

Lance turned them down a small side street, until they were in front of a student apartment complex. He used his free hand to pull out his key card out of the pocket of his gray sweatpants and scanned it so the door would open. They walked in and went straight to the elevator.

“How are you feeling?” asked Lance.

“My head is killing me,” Keith mumbled.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get to sit soon.” Lance pressed the third floor button with his knee. He still had a firm grip on Keith’s waist. “I can’t let you sleep though.”

“Right. Because I might be concussed.”

Lance snorted. “You’re funny.”

The elevator dinged open, and they stepped together to Lance’s apartment, which was four doors down the hall. Lance swiped his key card and opened the door to his apartment. It was dimly lit by a lamp on a small side table.

“You think you could make it to the couch on your own?” asked Lance as they stepped inside. Keith eyed the couch against the far wall.

“Yeah.” Lance let go of his waist and Keith slowly shuffled to the dark green sofa.

Keith sat and leaned his head against the wall. It was still pounding, but it wasn’t as bad as before. Less gong, more snare drum.

“No sleeping, I have to check your-” Lance stopped mid sentence, staring down at Keith’s lips.

“What?” Keith didn’t like that look.

“Your lip… it’s busted. And bloody.”

“Oh, I could have told you that.” Keith licked his lips and Lance winced.

“Shit. You need a rag or something.” Lance scrambled to his kitchenette, pulling out drawers.

“You know, I keep running into you, and I don’t even know your last name.” Keith didn’t know why he said that.

“McClain. Lance McClain. My name is Lance McClain,” he grabbed a rag and ran it under some cold water. He went over to Keith and gave it to him. “You look terrible.”

Keith placed the wet rag against his lips. “Thanks. You should see the other guys.”

“I _did_ see the other guys.” Lance shook his head. “I’m going to have my roommate check you for a concussion. HUNK!”

Keith did not appreciate the shouting.

There was a brief silence, followed by the sound of the door down the hall opening. Thudding footsteps got closer and closer, until a guy built like a linebacker in a sunshine yellow tank top and basketball shorts stood in the doorway.

“Lance,” he rubbed his eyes. “It’s the middle of the -” The sight of Keith on the couch was enough to wake him up. “Lance, what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” shouted Lance indignantly. “He was in a fight and I chased the guys away. He got hit pretty bad.”

“Hey, it was two to one,” argued Keith. He could have easily taken them. He just… didn’t want to.

Hunk glanced between the two of them. “Okay, I don’t know what’s going on but,” he pointed to Keith. “Please introduce the bleeding stranger on our couch.”

“Oh.” It hit Lance that Keith was still, indeed, a stranger. “This is Keith. Keith-”

“Kogane.” Now they were even on the names.

“Keith Kogane. The one I told you about.”

 _He told someone about me?_ Keith didn’t know if that was good or bad.

It was like a switch had been flipped. “Oh my gosh. Are you okay?”

“Honestly? I’m a little beat.”

Lance stifled a laugh, while Hunk pinched the bridge of his nose.

“God help me, there’s two of them,” he groaned.

“Can you check him for a concussion? I couldn’t find the flashlight.” Lance smiled at Keith reassuringly, and Keith couldn’t help but return it, even though it hurt his face.

“It’s behind the silverware tray, Lance.” Hunk pulled out a small flashlight from the open drawer and walked over to Keith.

“Yeah, I knew that. I was just testing you.”

Hunk rolled his eyes. “Sure. Okay, Keith, look at the light.” He flipped on the flashlight, and held it near Keith’s face. Keith did as he was told, and stared at the light. Hunk watched his pupils shrink, and flicked off the light. “He’s good. But I would check him in an hour just in case.”

This was so surreal. This guy checked Keith for a concussion like it was nothing.

“Thanks buddy. I owe you.” Lance clapped him on the shoulder.

“Yeah, just let me go back to bed. You might need ice for that lip,” he told Keith. “There’s a bag of peas in the freezer. Do you need anymore first aid? I’d leave the mouth-to-mouth to Lance, though. He was a lifeguard after all.”

“ _Hunk_!”

“Good night. Nice meeting you, Keith.” Hunk left, leaving Lance and Keith to themselves.

“Asshole. Anyway, good news, no concussion.”

“Bad news, I’m still in a stranger’s apartment.”

Lance laughed. “Well, honestly how many times do you have to meet someone before they’re not a stranger?”

He gave it a quick thought. “Five,” Keith answered.

“Huh. This is three now.”

He was right. They’ve ran into each other three times in the past week. It couldn’t just be a coincidence.

Keith was still betting on karma.

“You know, this is exactly a HSM life lesson,” said Lance cryptically.

“A… what?”

“High School Musical. It’s taught me two very important things.” Lance held up his index finger. “One, rooftop gardens are the most magically romantic places ever. Two,” he looked down at Keith. “You don’t just meet someone by chance.”

Keith snorted. “Okay, so you’re calling me Gabriella?”

“No… I’m just saying. HSM has never steered me wrong.”

“Maybe when you were like, twelve.”

Lance glared at him. “I hope your head hurts from all that sarcasm.”

It did hurt, not from the sarcasm.

“Actually, my head is killing me. Do you have any Tylenol?” asked Keith.

“Sure.” Lance went to the bathroom to grab it, and Keith got the chance to really took around the apartment. There was a window on the wall adjacent to Keith, and directly across from him was a little entertainment station with a flat screen tv. Posters hung on the wall behind it, one Shrek 2 poster, (was that supposed to be ironic?), and a Star Trek Beyond poster. There was a small black table that Keith didn’t even notice, in front of the couch. There were a few gaming magazines scattered on it. The place seemed cozy.

The splash of running water in the sink jarred Keith out of his observing. Lance was back.

“Here,” he gave Keith a small cup of water and a white pill. “That must have been one nasty punch.”

“I don’t really remember it. I think I blacked out alittle,” admitted Keith. He threw back the pill and water, quickly swallowing. The pill’s taste was still bitter on his tongue. “Eugh.”

“Ouch. Well, I’m glad I was there.” Lance leaned against the wall.

“Why were you over there, if you live here?”

“I was jogging.”

“Jogging. In the middle of the night.” What was it with people and jogging?

“Yeah. I’m working on my physical fitness.” Lance raised an eyebrow. “I jog by your campus every night.”

“What, are you training for a triathlon?”

“No, something better.”

“And that is…?”

“Sorry, you have to go to your fourth stranger meeting to unlock that answer.”

“Wow.” This guy was something else. But Keith didn’t protest.

“Okay. Aroma, nine-thirty on Monday?” Keith didn’t mind getting to know this guy. He did just kinda saved his life. And Shiro always told him to make new friends.

Oh, shit. Shiro.

Lance was stunned by his invitation. “Yeah, sure.” Keith took his bag from off of his shoulder, and looked inside for his phone. He pulled it out and saw ten missed calls and twenty text messages. “Everything okay?”

“I have to call my roommate. He’s probably freaking out.” He pressed the call button on Shiro’s contact and waited for him to answer. It barely rang once.

“Keith! Keith where the hell are you? It’s after dorm curfew!” Shiro’s worried voice made him wince. He hated when anyone worried about him.

“Shiro, it’s okay. I’m at a friend’s place.” He glanced at Lance. “I got jumped and-”

“Wait, you _what_? Keith what the fuck happened?” Shiro was trying his best to be calm, but it was hard when his roommate casually talked about getting jumped.

“Nothing. My friend found me and chased them off.”

Keith hated lying, but the less questions Shiro asked, the better.

“What friend?”

“His name is Lance. Listen, Shiro, I promise I’ll tell you everything tomorrow.”

“Okay…” He wanted to ask more, but Keith was obviously tired. “Stay safe.”

“Thanks. Night.”

Keith hung up the call. “Jesus christ.”

“That your boyfriend or something?” asked Lance.

“God no. Shiro’s just my roommate. He’s the dad friend, if that makes sense.”

Lance nodded. “Hunk can be the same way. Honestly, I’m surprised he didn’t freak out more. He must be beat.”

Keith snickered. “He’s the engineer, huh?”

“Yup. God bless him. Speaking of beat, do you want a blanket or something? I think it’s safe for you to sleep.”

“Sure.” Lance left again, and Keith sat there in silence. His phone was close to dead, so he shut it off.

What an exciting Friday night.

Maybe he should apologize for the sketches. If Lance would have been any different, there was no way Keith would be in the situation he was in now.

When Lance came back with a blanket and pillow folded neatly in his hands, Keith spoke up.

“So, about those drawings of you…” He took the pillow and laid it on the end of the couch closest to the lamp. “I know it’s weird, and-”

“There’s nothing weird about it. Pidge gleans her work from strangers all the time. I’ve just never seen myself from another person’s point of view before.” Lance smiled. “You don’t have to worry about it.”

That was a relief.

“Can I ask you, then, why you were so defensive about dancing?” Keith was traveling through dangerous territory. “I mean, you’re really good.”

Lance’s smile shifted to something sadder. “Meeting five.”

Keith took that as a good sign. “Okay.”

“Good night, stranger.” Lance left the room, and Keith shut off the light.

Maybe this wasn’t karma, he thought.


	2. The Shape of You (Under My Umbrella)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith gets to know the mysterious Lance, and learns a little more about himself in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took forever and I'm sorry. My original computer charger conked out on me, so i couldn't write for weeks.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, happy end of Klance Week!

_I’m on a couch. I’m on a couch, and I smell bacon._

Keith opened his eyes to see Shrek staring at him from across the room. So going to Lance’s apartment wasn’t a dream. At least he knew that.

He sat up, moving the blanket from the top of his chest to his feet. He saw Lance cooking something on the stove, and that must’ve been the source of the smell.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

Lance must have had supersonic hearing, because Keith’s movement was near silent.

“Morning,” Keith yawned. “What time is it?”

“Near ten o’clock. You don’t have a class, do you?”

“No, no class on Saturdays.”

“Good, you can stay and eat.” Lance set a plate of eggs and bacon on the table. “You feeling better?”

“Oodles better.” Keith dug into the eggs, shoveling them in his mouth. Since Keith’s version of breakfast was usual an energy drink and maybe a Pop Tart, he inhaled the eggs like oxygen. “These are good.”

“Thanks. Try the bacon.” Lance wore a crooked smile and watched Keith ravenously bite into the bacon strip. Keith said nothing, only grunting in satisfaction. “Hunk and I save our good breakfast for the weekends.”

Keith swallowed. “Oh man, tell Hunk I’m sorry you had to bring me here.”

“Don’t worry about it. Hunk’s a sweet guy, he’d never turn someone away. It’s why we’ve been best friends for so long.” Lance cleaned his hands on a paper towel and grabbed his own bacon.

“Still, I feel like I owe you guys. It was really nice of y’all to let me stay.” Keith wasn’t one to forget a debt.

“We’re still on for Monday, right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Well, I like coffee. And mini muffins.” Lance gave him a wink, and Keith laughed.

“Okay, I can take a hint.” Keith grabbed his phone from underneath the pillow on the couch and his bag. “But now I have to go before my roommate calls the police.”

“Do you know how to leave the building?”

Keith didn’t, so he shook his head.

Lance opened the door and pointed down the hallway. “Go left, all the way down to where the elevators are. Go down to the first floor. Just ignore the person at the desk as you pass, they never pay attention anyway.”

Keith didn’t know whether to shake his hand or hug him or some other nice gesture that wouldn’t make him look like a total ass for just leaving. He held out his fist. “Thanks.”

Lance smiled, and bumped his fist against Keith’s. “See you Monday.”

Keith made his way down the hallway, formulating a story that Shiro could believe. Hopefully he would just _not_ ask a bunch of questions.

 

“KEITH! Jesus Christ, dude!” Shiro was at the door when he cautiously opened it and met him in a bone-crushing hug. “What the fuck?”

Keith escaped his grip, wiggling out from underneath his arms. “Hi to you, too.”

“So what happened? Who is this Lance guy?” Shiro was quick with the questions. He didn’t miss a beat, did he?

Keith made his way over to his bed, plugging in his phone. He sat on the edge of his mattress, swinging his feet. “I told you, I was walking down the alley after work to get to the dorm-”

“You mean that dangerous alley that people constantly get _robbed_ in?” Shiro looked like he was on the verge of an aneurysm.

“Yeah, that one. And these guys started messing with me and I pissed one off, so they started fighting me.”

“Jesus, Keith. You’re lucky they didn’t have a gun or something.”

He didn’t even think about that. He usually didn’t think about a lot of things like that. It wasn’t like he really expected fighting someone that might have a serious weapon was even a possibility on a college campus. Unlike Texas, where everyone, including his Gammaw, had a gun. He used to carry a knife back in high school, even though it wasn’t allowed, because he’d walk his “siblings” to school and the people in his town weren’t so friendly.

“Well, I guess I’m lucky then,” Keith thought back to how Lance came to his rescue and a smile crossed his face for a split, blissful second.

“So, this guy Lance…” Shiro started to ask. “How did you meet him?”

“I-uh,” Keith swallowed his panic. His story dropped right of the tip of his tongue. “You know how you just, meet people.”

“Really? Because I’ve never heard you mention him before.” Shiro may have been caught up in his own world sometimes, but damn him for being so observant when Keith didn’t want him to be. “Does he go here?”

Shiro was trying to get him in a box and Keith was not going to be trapped so easily.

“No, he goes to the university.” _That wasn’t suspicious._

“How do you meet someone from there?” Shiro’s raised eyebrow was serving a heaping pile of suspicion and Keith was not at all appreciative of it.

“I don’t know Shiro, they’re pretty close together, it’s not hard to run into someone.” _Literally._

Shiro rolled his eyes at his sarcasm, but froze. “Keith.”

“What?”

“ _Please_ don’t tell me you made friends with the boardwalk dancer.”

“You have a nickname for him now?” he exclaimed, not realizing he just gave himself away.

“Oh my god.” Shiro shut his eyes. “I can’t even look at you right now.”

“Stop that!” Keith tossed his pillow at Shiro and narrowly missed his face.

“Why did I have to get such a weird roommate?” he groaned. Keith just sat there, his face slowly heating up.

“I’m not weird, okay? Stop being a dramatic ass.”

“How?”

“How do you stop being a dramatic ass?

“No, how did you even… acquaint?”

Keith was especially embarrassed now.

“Do you remember how I was a little late to the Comet on Wednesday?”

“You said you got a little lost.” He could here Shiro losing patience with every syllable, which he didn’t even understand why.

“Well, I might have ran into him… head first.” This was stupid. He was an adult, he didn’t have to explain himself to anyone, much less his roommate.

Shiro just stared at him. “My roommate is a _stalker_ ,” he whispered, knowing Keith could still very well hear him.

“I’m not! Jesus, Shiro, I’m gonna leave.” Keith moved to leave the dorm but Shiro blocked his way.

“No! Look, I’m sorry, I’m _really_ glad you’re okay. And I’m sorry that I’m judging you but.... I have a few years on you buddy. I’ve seen a lot of weird things and I know how people could quickly turn on you.”

Keith was aware of Shiro’s story: How he was doing well in acting school until an automobile accident took his right arm, and with the start of his physical therapy, most of his friends. They didn’t want to be around someone that was doomed to never make it in the industry. He left his old college to start over, because losing everything put him behind. West Palm had accepted him for what he was, and he was loved by everyone, even Keith (reluctantly, like an annoying older brother).

Shiro relaxed. “So, what’s he like?”

“Um,” Keith wasn’t expecting that question right off the bat. “He’s nice.”

“Uh huh. Go on.” Shiro was smiling, and it was starting to creep him out.

“Yeah, I mean he’s… he’s nice, kinda cute, really cool. I don’t really know him yet-” Keith was taken aback by the way Shiro was looking at him, like he showed him a straight A report card. He looked… _proud._ “What?”

“Oh, nothing.”

Oh, _now_ Shiro wanted to play coy. Asshole.

“Tell me.”

Shiro shrugged. “I’ve never heard you call someone cute before.”

Keith blinked. “Oh no, you’re not doing this.”

“Keith-”

“First you were all stranger danger, now you think I’m DTF some guy I just met.” Keith was furious. After _all_ that judgement.

“I never said that.”

“You don’t have to. You’re eyes are all suggestive and your eyebrows are waving like the ocean. I don’t call guys cute around you, because your immediate reaction, is that I want some. And I do not. I’m not you, Shiro. I don’t go after someone pretty for the sake of sex.” He felt bad for talking about Allura that way, it made her sound easy when it was Shiro that was the persistent one. “Does it ever occur to you that I might want some _friends_?”

Shiro looked offended, but wistful. He did push Keith when it came to the dating scene and finding someone, as if being social was more important than studies. But obviously Keith had his feelings about the subject.

“Why didn’t you just say so?”

“I mean, I thought that would be the logical conclusion to this conversation.” Keith crossed his arms.

“Listen, you do whatever you want. But as your roommate, and perspective wingman, I’m just telling you to be careful. This conversation has flopped over the place, but that’s the main thing I want you to take from this.” Shiro clapped him on the shoulder. “Now, I don’t about you, but I could go for some Chinese. What do you say?”

Keith offered him a half smile. “Are you paying?”

Shiro chuckled. “Sure. Let’s go.”

 

It was Monday.

Lance day.

The day of Lance.

No, that sounded weird.

Keith was a little early for their “stranger meeting”, as Lance called it. He wasn’t even positive he would show up, but he ordered a caramel latte and mini muffins as a payback for the hospitality, as well as his own usual. He sat in a seat closest to the window, so that Lance could see him as he passed, while simultaneously look out for him. He tried to keep his attention on his phone rather than the window so he didn’t seem overeager, but still, he would steal glances at the street, hoping to to spot that ever familiar jacket, or bright star-like smile.

Not that he paid close attention to his smile. Preposterous.

It was nearing nine thirty, and Keith decided he would give Lance a fifteen minute window before he left for class, even if it wasn’t for another hour. That was a reasonable amount of time to wait around for someone.

Keith watched his clock change, and a brown and blue blur raced past the window. The door dinged as it opened, revealing an out of breath Lance. His eyes scanned the cafe and landed on Keith, and he smiled. He sat across from him, knee bouncing against the table, giving everything an excited vibration.

“Hi.” His voice was breathy. “You’re here.”

“Well, I’d be pretty shitty if I forgot.” Keith slid the bag of mini muffins and the still warm latte over to him. “For your hospitality.”

Lance peered inside and squealed. “Yesssssssss. _Mini muffins._ ”

“I hope a caramel latte was okay. I sort of remembered you ordering it last time I ran into you.”

“How very _sweet_ of you,” said Lance, taking a sip.

It took Keith a second to process that it was a pun, and not a generous compliment. “Haha. Thanks.”

“So, the fourth stranger meeting begins.” Lance rubbed his hands together in an almost evil way, even though nothing about his tone suggested it was. “So, go on, tell me about yourself.”

“Me? But I thought you were going to tell me what you were training for?” asked Keith. He wasn’t much for the whole “opening up” dealio, He was like a can, with a lid underneath the pull off lid.

“In due time.” There was something devious about the way his eyes sparkled, as if he was up to something. “You go first.”

“What in tarna- okay. I’ll play your game, McClain.” Keith’s cheeky smile was supposed to look intimidating, but it did nothing but make Lance smile wider.

“Okay, first, where are you from? Because I know for sure that you’re not from around here.”

“Why do you think I’m not from here?” asked Keith, amused.

“I’ve heard you say ‘y’all’ and almost say ‘what in tarnation’. You’re country,” said Lance with more confidence Keith ever had at one time.

“You insult me.”

“Well?”

“It’s true. I’m from Texas.”

Lance gasped. “You poor thing.”

Keith giggled. He had heard everything possible about Texas, so he wasn’t phased by Lance’s dramatics. “Yeah yeah, I’ve heard it all.”

“So I guess, naturally, my next question would be: what’s a guy like you doing in a place like West Palm Beach?”

That was such a line.

“I’ve been going to school here going on three years. I absolutely love it here, I can’t imagine being anywhere else to study my art.” Keith glanced out the window and looked at the buildings fondly. It was breath of fresh air compared to the town where everyone knew everyone and there was barely enough room to stretch yourself, mentally speaking. It’s why he stayed.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why did you leave? How did your parents feel about it?”

Lance made his first mistake, but it was to be expected. When you don’t have “ORPHAN” stamped on your forehead, everyone expects you to have parents. Unless you’re Bruce Wayne.

“I’m- I left Texas because my town was small and, being an orphan probably helped my decision to leave and make my life a little better.” Keith watched as the excited spark dulled. “Don’t get me wrong, the family, if you want to call it that, I had was nothing but nice. I love Gammaw and the troublesome youngins, I wouldn’t trade them for the world. But with what I wanted to do, something so few people understand, I just knew I had to leave. Besides, legally I was on my own. Gammaw keeps a room for me, though,” he laughed at the thought of his old room, the red twin bed and shelf full of old obsessions, frozen in time until the summer. “Art is… a calling. That’s sounds so pretentious but the call lead me here, and so far, I can’t complain.”

Lance’s mouth was open in awe, lips parted in a silent “wow”. “I know exactly how you feel. My parents, they immigrated here from Cuba, and they did it for us. They knew the opportunities for us were greater here, and so they took a big risk in moving here. I was born here, and I’m grateful every day that I can pursue the career that would make my family proud and achieve a personal dream.”

“Is that why you’re taking two unrelated things? Biology and aeronautics?”

“They’re related.” Lance didn’t elaborate, so Keith had to ask.

“Are you gonna tell me or are you going to keep being aloof?”

Lance chuckled. “Well, I guess it does seem unrelated to someone not going into the field. The aeronautics major is usually set aside for grad students, but with some sweet talking and the dean’s hard look at my grades, I was able to get a leg up.”

“On what?” Keith was starting to get frustrated.

Lance looked away. “You’re going to judge me.”

" _Really_?” Keith was louder than he meant to be. “Tell me.”

Lance’s bemused smile sent a shiver down Keith’s spine. Not out of fear. Definitely not fear.

“On being an astronaut.”

Keith blinked. “That’s… ambitious.”

“See, you’re judging me.”

“No I’m not!”

Keith wasn’t judging him in the slightest. It wasn’t often you met someone that was actually trying to achieve a dream that’s usually abandoned in childhood. It was like meeting the future president in a political science class. Almost unheard of.

“It’s just, little kids usually say that, and-”

“There it is,” said Lance.

“I don’t mean it like that, do you know how many people actually try to become astronauts? I imagine not a lot, because you’re the first to tell me.” Keith was trying to save the conversation from a complete plummet.

“I’m messing with you. I know it’s a hard career to get into, but I’ve been working towards it my whole life, pretty much. I’m sure it’s just as hard to be an artist, right?”

He had no idea.

“Oh yeah.”

Constant hours of hating everything he worked on, constant doubt, and all the practice, practice, practice. Somehow he still fell in love with it each time.

“Okay, here’s a question for you, future astronaut.”

“Shoot.”

Keith took a teasing sip of his drink, making Lance wait an agonizing second. “Do you believe in aliens?”

Lance seemed unfazed, but that twinkle was back. “Do _you_ believe in aliens?”

“Of course I do, but I asked you first.”

“It would be silly to think we’re alone in the universe,” he agreed, placing his chin on his fist, elbow resting on the small table. “You are fascinating.”

Keith swallowed abruptly, almost choking on his own spit. “Huh?”

“I mean, I’ve jogged past your campus everyday for the last two years and I never thought someone so interesting would be there.”

Keith felt the familiar heat of embarrassment rising in face. “Oh, I’m not _interesting_.”

“But you are. An artist from Texas that believes in aliens? That’s not interesting?” There was a coyness in the smile he flashed Keith.

“Not as interesting as someone who’s going to see space,” countered Keith. He wasn’t used to compliments. How do you respond to someone without sounding like a dork?

“Speaking of art, can I see your sketchbook again? I figured I’d ask this time, since Pidge told me I made a big art no-no last time.”

Keith felt more secure about letting Lance look through his art, since they weren’t complete strangers in the middle of the sidewalk. He pulled out his sketchbook from his satchel, sliding it over to him. Lance opened it carefully, eyes scanning the pages in wonder.

“These are so detailed. Even the small doodles.” Lance ran a finger over the small pencil drawings, as if they were real objects or people he could touch. “You know, I used to dabble in drawing.”

“Oh, really?” _What other talents could you possibly be hiding?_

“No, I’m actually trash. I could do a mean Spongebob doodle though,” he laughed, and Keith’s lips quirked in tight smile. “Wanna see?”

“Sure.” Keith pulled out a pencil from his bag and let Lance have at it. He had to admit that this was going smoother than he expected. Somehow he thought he would mess up to the point where Lance wouldn’t want to bother with him. Making friends wasn’t something Keith was good at, he alienated himself, sometimes on purpose. So when he was met with people like Shiro, the frat boy, or someone as warm and friendly as Lance, it was a bit of a sensory overload. He wanted to get over it.

A small chime rang from Lance’s pocket, and he stopped his doodling to pull out his phone.

“Shit, I have to get to class,” muttered Lance, sounding reluctant to leave. Or maybe that was Keith’s imagination.

He slid the sketchbook over to Keith with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I hate to cut this short.”

“No, it’s okay, I should get going too.” Keith had his class with Professor Coran next, and he knew he couldn’t risk being late. He loved to lock the class door so you’d sit outside in shame.

Lance looked like he was carefully choosing his next words. “How much do like pizza?” he asked, grinding on his bottom lip.

“I love pizza?” It came out as a question, and Keith mentally slapped his own forehead.

“There’s a place, closer to downtown. Best pizza. Thursday?” Lance was speaking hurriedly, but Keith got the message. Their fifth ‘stranger meeting’.

“Thursday works. Go! Don’t be late to class.” Keith waved him away, and Lance ran out the door, not before flashing that smile.

Keith shook his head, amused. He was making a friend and it was working. How Gammaw would tease him if she knew.

He looked down at the Spongebob doodle on the page,and he had to admit, it looked right out of the cartoon. The only part he didn’t understand was the string of numbers underneath...

It was a phone number. The sly son of gun gave Keith his phone number.

 

After classes were over, he went back to the dorm and shut himself in the bathroom in case Shiro came back early. He stared at the number in his phone, mentally flipping a coin. To call? To text?

His thumb hovered over the screen between the two options. Which would be less weird?

He closed his eyes and pressed the screen. The room was still quiet, so he peeked down at his screen, which was dark. The silence was cut with a dialing noise, and Keith dropped it phone in shock.

After a few rings, Lance, (at least, he hoped it was him), answered. “Hello?”

“Is this, uh, Lance?” he asked nervously.

“This is he.”

Keith breathed a sigh of relief. “Hi, it’s Keith.”

“I was wondering when you’d call.”

“And I was wondering how you expected me to meet you on Thursday without a location.”

“That was what the number was for,” he said, making Keith roll his eyes.

“Smart.”

“Thank you.”

“So what time on Thursday? I don’t have class after eleven, but I have work at the library at five,” he told him.

“Maybe one? We can take the bus down there, it’s not far. I’ll have you back before work.”

“Sounds like a plan. Are you going to tell me about your dancing, then?” Keith felt like it was a sensitive subject of sorts, so he made sure not to bring it up at the coffee shop, but he remembered Lance telling him “Meeting five.”

“Sure. I guess it’s only fair. But you have to tell me about your foster family back in Texas.”

Another sensitive subject. Touche.

“I can do that. After this we won’t be strangers, huh?”

“Personally, I’ve already moved you up to be an acquaintance.”

“Oh sir, I’m so very honored,” Keith exclaimed in his most Southern Belle voice.

Lance giggled on the other end. “You’re something else.”

A warm, unfamiliar feeling filled his chest, and Keith felt like he couldn’t speak. All the breath he had was gone.

“Keith?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” All composure returned, and Keith felt normal again. That was weird.

“How was class?”

“It was fine. I feel like my professor is going to be a mystery forever. One day I understand what he wants for the class, the next he comes in wearing a flamingo print suit jacket and asks us to draw our ideal animal.”

“He sounds like a trip,” Lance agreed.

There was a knock at the door, and Keith jumped at the sudden noise.

“Keith, are you in here? I need to shower.”

“Uh, yeah! I’ll be right out!”

“What was that?”

“My roommate. He needs the bathroom,” said Keith, not really paying attention.

“You’re in the bathroom?” Lance’s laugh echoed in the small room, and suddenly Keith became quite aware that Shiro was on the other side, and that his phone was _loud_.

“It’s private!” he hissed. “Gotta go, bye.”

“Bye Keith.”

Keith hung up the phone, and quickly flushed the toilet behind him. Washing his hands, he shook them dry before yanking open the door. Shiro jumped back, trying to look nonchalant with his arms crossed, but Keith knew he probably had his ear to the door. Nosy bastard.

“Finally, dude. What, were you talking to someone?”

Keith felt himself looking anywhere but Shiro’s eye. “No.”

“What were you doing in there then?” Shiro questioned him.

“I was _using the bathroom_ ,” he emphasized, quietly shoving his phone further in his pocket.

Shiro looked over him apprehensively, staring him down like a parent catching their child's hand in the cookie jar.

“Keith, we're both men here. If you need privacy, all you have to do is ask. We can set up a system. I personally prefer the old sock on the door.”

“What are you going on about?”

“Come on, we both know we have needs. If you need to beat it, just leave something on the door.” Shiro dropped his bag on his bed, and went to his dresser to pull out a fresh pair of clothes.

“ _Beat it?_  I wasn't hitting anything,” he said defensively.

“No, man.” Shiro rolled his eyes. “Do you really need me to spell it out?”

Keith stared him down expectantly. What was he trying to accuse him of?

“If you're going to jack off-”

“GROSS!” Keith felt his face turning deep red. “I don't do that!”

“Come on, be an adult.”

“I'm not speaking about this to you.” Keith was telling the truth, but of course he didn't expect Shiro to believe it. Because they were guys, it was expected. But Keith never wanted to. Waste of energy.

“It's a natural thing that happens.”

“You know what's not natural? _This conversation._ ”

“Keith, you're being ridiculous.”

He glared at Shiro with the force of a missile. “I'm fixin’ to go to for a walk.”

With that, he turned unceremoniously from his roommate and walked out of the dorm without so much as a glance, face still beet red.

 

Thursday came fast, and Keith stood under the awning of Aroma, waiting for Lance to meet him. They agreed that Aroma was a good location to meet since it was the perfect middle point between campuses. There was a trolley stop in front of the Subway next door, which Lance insisted was the fastest way to get the place that had “out of this world” pizza. He also expected that wouldn't be the last time he would hear a space related pun.

His attention was on his phone, scrolling through past texts from Lance. They talked a lot in the past three days, and it surprised Keith how well he was at keeping conversation. Maybe it was internal motivation to actually have a friendship outside of his family and roommate. Or the fact that Lance was… really fun to talk to.

“Hey there Picasso, who ya talkin’ to?” Lance leaned into Keith's personal space, peering at the phone in his hand. He was virtually silent in his approach, so Keith jumped at the sudden sound of his voice and moved at least three feet away.

“Please don't do that.” Keith hated his personal space invaded. It came from a love/hate relationship with his siblings somehow finding a way into his room. It was nice when he was there. Not so no nice when he wasn't. The Great Paint Disaster of 2013 was still something that caused his heart to ache.

“Sorry. I should really learn how to not to sneak up on people,” Lance apologized. Keith slowly moved back so he was back under the awning. “My siblings tell me I'm like a snake.”

“That might be the most accurate thing I've heard about you.” Keith couldn't stay mad at an honest mistake. He instead observed his blinding smile that carried to his eyes.

“What else have you heard?” Lance asked, like Keith really heard some juicy gossip.

“That you… have  some pretty sweet moves.” They walked together to the trolley stop, standing on the curb so the trolley could see them as it pulled up. Keith was not so subtly bringing up the subject of dancing to see how well Lance reacted. There was something about it that made Lance lose his bubbly demeanor, and Keith wanted to know why. Why was it such a secret?

Lance eyed him curiously, mouth twisted in a frown. “Let’s wait to talk about that.”

There is was again, the avoidance of the  subject.

“So, this pizza place… is it really as good as you say?”

“Oh man, it’s amazing. The cheese melts in your mouth.” He was back to his bouncy self, rocking on his heels while he talked about pizza. Such a character change didn’t go unnoticed, but Keith couldn’t be bothered to analyze him like an English essay. Even though his curiosity was a nagging voice in the back of his head, urging him to ask more questions.

Thankfully, the trolley came not a moment too soon, and they were on their way to Lance’s pizza place. They were silent on the way, but Keith could have sworn Lance was stealing glances at him from across the aisle. Every  time Keith looked over, Lance suddenly snapped his head forward. Keith self-consciously ran a hand through his hair and checked his teeth in the reflection of the metal pole. He looked fine.

Lance slid out of his seat as their stop was coming up next and tapped Keith on the shoulder. “This next one is us.”

Keith nodded silently and got out of his seat and Lance pulled the chord for their stop. The back door opened and they stepped of onto the sidewalk. Lance motioned for him to walk down a couple stores before they were in front of the pizza place.

Keith stared up at the neon red sign proclaiming _Arus Pizza_.

“Arus?”

“It’s Italian.” Lance opened the door of brick building, sending out a flurry of smells. “After you.”

Keith stepped inside the warmly lit restaurant, inhaling the scent of dough and tomato sauce. Plants hung from the ceilings in front of windows, and dark wood tables lined the walls. There were a few booths on the wall to his left, upholstered in red and white leather.

A woman in a green button down greeted them, handing them menus. “Hi there. How many?”

“Booth for two,” said Lance from behind Keith. She led them to a booth right in front of the window, and let them sit before pulling out her notepad. “Can I get you started with something to drink?”

“Just water for me,” said Keith.

“Lemonade please.” Lance looked over the menu, as if he hadn’t been here before. She jotted that down and left them to make their decision.

Keith took a look at the menu, which was a pretty standard one for a pizza place. They had slices, whole pizzas, salads, sides… that all sounded pretty good.

“What do you recommend?” he asked Lance.

That devious smile returned. “I already know what I’m getting us.”

“You’re not going to let me chose?”

“Trust me on this one.”

Keith leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms, but a smirk settled on his lips. Their waitress came back with their drinks and took their order, which was pretty simple: a small pepperoni and bosco sticks. Keith wasn’t sure what was so special about it but he let Lance do his thing.

After she left Lance set his arms on the table and pointed at him with his hands clasped together. “Question time. Go.”

“Why are you avoiding the subject of dancing?” Keith wasn’t going to hesitate this time. Lance was giving him the opportunity to find out and he was going to take it.

“You’re really hung up on this dancing thing, huh?”

“You haven’t given me an answer, so... yeah.”

Lance sighed. “The dancing… _thing_.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s not a thing.”

Keith’s eyebrows shot up. “What do you mean?”

“It’s not a thing. I don’t… it’s just a habit. I never thought… I mean I like it and all but being a dancer really… I can’t.”

“But I _saw_ you! You’re really good!”

“I don’t know what you saw but it’s nothing special. I’m just a guy, goofing off to some music.”

Keith stared at him in disbelief. “The way you moved your body around the crowd of people? That was amazing. You can’t teach rhythm. You can’t _ingrain_ that into someone’s body and soul. You can’t teach that kind of instinct.” Keith saw Lance’s eyes widen and decided to tone it down a bit. “You’re a natural. That’s all I’m saying.”

Lance looked at Keith with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Keith should have took that as a sign to stop while he was ahead, but he couldn’t let it go.

“Tell me you don’t feel something when the music hits you.”

“Look, Keith, you’re endearing. But the talent or whatever? It’s not there. I’m just being silly.” Lance set his eyes on the street outside the window, brows knitting together. “You said art’s a calling, right? Dancing never really called for me. Not even a text. I’m meant for the stars.”

There was something in his answer that disappointed Keith, but didn’t quite make sense to him. Like there was something else that Lance wasn’t saying, but Keith couldn’t press the subject further.

“So, how does Hunk feel about you gallivanting around with a stranger?” asked Keith, switching the script. Lance seemed much more comfortable with the change of subject.

“Well, he’s not surprised.”

                                                                                                ----------------------------------

Lance sprayed deodorant under his arms, checking his phone for the time. His roommate was splayed out on the couch, eating ice cream, and listening to his friend getting ready.

“Lance?”

“Huh?”

“Are you sure he’s not a serial killer?”

Lance paused his grooming to stare at his friend. “Hunk. You _met_ him.”

“He was bleeding on our couch!”

“He’s cool, okay?” Lance dropped his deodorant on the table and ran a hand through his hair.

Hunk sighed. “Honestly Lance, you’re such a hoe.”

“What do you mean? I’ve never even slept with anyone!” Lance protested.

“But you have hoe tendencies.”

“Okay, what the f-”

“You constantly go after people after you barely know them.”

“That’s not true.”

Hunk raised a questioning eyebrow. “Oh really? What about that pretty blonde girl that turned out to be a Republican?”

“I should have known after she made that joke about deportation.”

“Or the guy who wore a _tail_?”

“I thought it was a keychain!” he huffed.

“You told me you would die for me.”

“I was drunk and you carried me home!” Lance crossed his arms. “What do you want me to say?”

“You’re going to end up falling for this guy. You’ve always had a thing for brooding types.”

“He’s not brooding. He’s Texan.”

“Oh my _god_.”

“Need I remind you about Shay?”

Hunk glared at him. How dare he pull the Shay card?

“Just… be safe. Stay in public areas.”

Lance shot him his signature smile. “See ya later.”

Hunk let out a deep sigh for his friend as he heard the door slam shut.

                                                                                                 -----------------------------------

“He knows how friendly I am. Comes from having a big family,” Lance distractedly twirled a napkin around his finger. “He just loves to bring my dating life up every time I meet someone new. Like every person I meet is my next date or something. You make a few mistakes and you never live it down,” he chuckled. “Is your roommate the same way?”

Keith swallowed nervously. He couldn’t even handle the subject of masturbation, much less the thought of meeting and dating multiple guys. “Oh, _yeah_.”

“It’s the whole college atmosphere. Even my older sister said she fooled around. Not me though,” he pointed to his forehead. “Steel trap.”

“Yeah, I never have time for that either.” Keith admitted. He watched Lance’s smile drop slightly, and for a split second he looked disappointed, but that, again, was probably his imagination.

The smell of fresh melted cheese hit his nostrils, and they watched their waitress set down the steaming pizza and basket of bosco sticks on the table.

“This looks awesome, thank you so much!” said Lance. The waitress smiled and left them to their food.

“Well? Go on and try it.” Lance gestured to the pizza with an open hand, going for a bosco stick.

Keith reached for a slice, pulling it carefully from the rest of the pie. The cheese stretched out from the middle, creating a long cheese snake. He cut it with his finger and wrapped it around his finger. “This cheese is crazy.” He ate the cheese off his finger and proceeded to take an enormous bite.

“Yeah, the cheesiest pizza in West Palm.” Lance dipped his stick in the marinara sauce. “So, tell me about you foster family.”

“Well, they’re not a really a foster family… It’s just the kids at the orphanage, and Gammaw. She runs the place. But she does treat every youngin’ like her own, no matter what they look like or how they got there. She raised me from the time I was a baby.”

“What about your… siblings?” Lance’s hesitation was amusing to Keith, though from a moral standpoint it shouldn’t have been.

“Let’s see… There’s Texas X… his real name is Xavier but he’s in a big cowboy phase right now, there’s Jaime… he loves collecting bugs and driving Gammaw crazy.” The more he thought of the kids at home, a fond smile made its way across his face. “He _loves_ beetles. And then there’s Elle, she’s a little princess. Her parents died in an accident and she didn’t have any family so she ended up with us a couple years ago. She’s my favorite.” Elle was how he imagined what his real little sister would have been, if he had one. She was creative, sometimes bratty but always made up for it by sharing her stuffed animals. She always wanted to paint with Keith, and he still kept one of their works hung up on the wall above his bed. He wished he could visit, just to see them. But he had to focus on school.

“They sound like a lot of fun. You’d love my little siblings.” Lance paused their conversation so they could eat. Lance polished off two bosco sticks and his half of the pizza, while Keith finished one slice and half a bosco stick. It wasn’t like he wasn’t hungry, but he didn’t want to pig out in front of Lance. Normally he didn’t care, he inhaled food in front of anyone else, but he was holding himself back for some reason.

Lance took notice and offered Keith another slice. “I can’t eat this all by myself.”

Keith eagerly took another slice. “So what’s Cuba like? Is it like Florida?”

“It’s… a little different. We’re still under a dictator, and people expect it to be some glamorous tourist destination, and sometimes it is, but not for the people who live there. It’s why my parents left with my older siblings.”

“So what do they do? Your older siblings?”

“Tye is married, and sells cars for Ford. My sister Alexi, she’s a marine biologist and works at Seaworld.”

“Seaworld?”

“She’s slowly dismantling it from the inside. I told her, don’t get attached to those damn whales.”

Keith laughed. The conversation carried on from there, and slowly Keith finished off the rest of the food without feeling so self-conscious. The waitress came over with the check and he reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet, but Lance already had his card in the tray.

“This one’s on me.”

“But I thought friends split costs.” Keith was just teasing, but Lance coughed, slightly embarrassed as the waitress chose that time to grab the check.

“Next time. Besides, I promised I would get you to work on time.”

“What time is it?” Keith realized he didn’t even look at the time since they got to the restaurant. That wasn’t like him at all.

“Three thirty.”

“We’ve been here for _two hours_?” How did that much time pass without Keith realizing?

“Is that a bad thing?” The waitress came back, and Lance put his card in his wallet. They thanked her and made their way to the door.

“No, it just doesn’t feel like it.”  Keith opened the door and let Lance walk out first.

“You know what they say. Time flies when- TROLLEY!” Lance pointed the the trolley coming up on the opposite side of the street. Looking for any immediate traffic, they booked it to the stop across the street from them.

“That was a close one.”

 

Keith pushed the cart of books though the aisle, looking at the spines for the number that belonged in that section. There were a couple that belonged on the shelf to his left, and he pulled them out of the cart to look closer at the numbers to get them in the right order. He enjoyed this job, it was pretty quiet and it gave him a lot of time to think about the work he had ahead of him in his classes. Also, it was fun to kick out the ones that tried to spend the night there so they had more studying time, even if it meant dragging them by the sleeping bag.

As he set the books on the shelf, his phone buzzed in his back pocket, sending an awkward vibration down his leg.

Keith swiftly pulled his phone out of his pocket and unlocked the screen to see a message from Lance.

 

 **Lance:** _< screenshot>_

 **Lance:** _All my friends have emojis_

 

Keith stared at the screenshot of his contact info and smiled when he realized it was a paint palette. Such a small detail, but for Keith, somehow it was everything.

 

Weeks passed quickly and soon it it was almost the end of October, which meant midterms. Midterms were different for Keith. It usually meant the completion of various art projects, and Coran’s class was no exception.

 

“Class, before you leave I need to talk to about your latest assignment,” his professor announced, waving at them to sit back down. There was murmur of confusion as there wasn’t an assignment on the syllabus, and everyone was just expecting something for the midterm.

“I know you all are just expecting me to pull out something for the midterm, but this assignment determines whether you, as individuals, will have to take one.”

That caused a stir, as a flurry of whispers made their way around the class. Coran hushed them.

“Your assignment, is to draw for me an intimate moment. And by that I don’t mean porn, as some of you _adults_ like to try and pull. It has to be something that means something to you, or someone else. It could be based on a photograph, or a personal memory. It can be a series of pictures, no more than three, _and_ the top three students will have their art displayed during the Fall Art Exhibition next Saturday, and will not have to take the written midterm.”

Excited chatter filled the room. No midterm? In _his_ class?

“Now, it’s all about how you understand the assignment.” He scanned the room, looking at each individual face. “I expect it on my desk no later than the end of class on Friday. You are dismissed.”

Keith left the class, gears turning. He was more excited about the prospect of having his art displayed for the Fall Art Exhibition. That was every art majors dream, and as a junior he had yet to have anything… exhibited. But what could he draw for this one?

 

“Maybe you’re thinking too hard about this one,” said Lance, pouring over notes. His organic biology midterm was coming up and he was having trouble memorizing, so Keith offered to quiz him in exchange for coffee. Keith had lamented his troubles about the assignment, and Lance, bless his heart, was trying to give him some… _constructive_ advice. “You said art was a calling.”

“Maybe I should have hung up,” Keith groaned. He flicked through the notecards, looking for a tough question. “Which species of animal is known to feed their children their feces for digestive enzymes?”

“Oh… I know this one… Elephants?”

Keith turned over the card and read the back. “Yup. And that just made me look at those donut holes differently.”

“Yes!” Lance pumped his fist victoriously.

“That’s absolutely disgusting,” Keith sneered.

“That’s nature, baby.”

Keith learned quickly that nicknames were just a Lance thing, but it didn’t stop his stomach from doing a weird flip thing that Keith couldn’t exactly describe. It was a weird reflex.

“So, what ideas do you have? What about that portrait of your family?” Lance was referring to the picture Keith nearly lost at the beach and vowed to never let out of is sketchbook. He showed it Lance after he asked what everyone back in Texas looked like, and Lance showed him pictures of his huge family.

“It’s a good portrait, but it’s not _intimate._ ” Keith never really encountered intimacy to really recognize it as something he could pull out of his ass and draw.

“You don’t have a stuffed animal? Or a picture of yourself when you were younger?”

“Gammaw didn’t always have time to take pictures.” Unfortunately Keith was born in the time before smart phones and didn’t have much of his childhood documented with the other ten kids that were there with him, but she tried her best on birthdays and Christmases.

“Do you have a fond memory of someone? Something you share with someone that no one knows about…?”

“No…” There weren't a lot of treasured memories up there. Maybe getting his first set of “real paint”, or the time he and the other kids found a lizard and someone _didn't_ kill it. Really, his art was the most intimate thing about Keith, something he never really shared with anyone except Lance and-

Wait.

The sketches of Lance. Dancing. It all made sense.

The bulb had been lit.

He grinned, looking at Lance with the biggest spark in his eyes. Lance gave him a shifty eyed look.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing, I just got an idea.”

“Well?” asked Lance. “Don't leave me in the dark now.”

“Sorry Lance, I want to quiz you but I have to-”

Lance gave him an exasperated sigh, shaking his head. “Just go Keith.”

Keith stared at him dumbly.

“ _Go._ Finish your assignment.” Lance waved him off, taking the note cards.

“I'll make it up to you,” he promised, going to the door. “Mini muffins!”

The doorbell jingled and Keith was gone, speed walking to his dorm.

“What's that Keith? You'd _love_ to have dinner on Friday?” he asked himself in a mocking voice, a little too loudly. The lady at the next table gave him a weird look, and he sunk farther in his chair in shame.

 _Who am I kidding?_ thought Lance. _Hunk was right._

 

Keith couldn't be more happier to finish an assignment for this class. He carefully smudged the charcoal shadows surrounding Lance in the second picture. Keith decided to make a series, and maybe he was twisting the interpretation, but art was flexible, as his professor had said. All he knew for sure was this was the most intimate thing he could think of. Dancing was baring your heart to the world, as he learned from Allura and her friends. And he could see her soul, every time she performed.

Keith gripped his pencil between his teeth, giving the drawing an intense look-over. The color of Lance’s figure still popped, while the shadow people gave the picture an ominous feel. It was if they personified fears and insecurities and projected themselves around Lance to keep him from really expressing his connection to the music.

This was the final picture, and Keith was satisfied enough to set it down for the night. He pulled out the earbuds that had been lodged in his ears for the last two hours, letting the music pour out into the room.

“ _I’m in love with the shape of you….”_

Keith gathered the other two sketches from the table and put them in a maroon folder, ready to be turned in.

“ _I’m in love with your body…”_

The folder was put into his satchel, and not waiting up for his roommate, he turned of his music and the lights, and soon fell asleep.

 

The deed had been done. The folder was turned in and now all Keith had to do was wait and see if he would be picked on Monday. Of course he had his doubts, as an artist would. He never really saw the art of the other students, so he had no idea what he was up against. Then again, Lance was beautiful, and there was… there was...

Where did _that_ thought come from?

Sure, Lance was… lithe, and strong shouldered… it just translated to the page. But you couldn’t really see that under the jacket in the portrait… Maybe it was the confidence he used.

But still. Keith called someone beautiful. That wasn’t like him at all. That wasn’t even something he said, even if it was inevitably _true._

He shook the thought from his mind as he met Lance at the cafe that Saturday afternoon. Lance said something about “relaxing from the stress.”

As if Keith’s stress was over.

Lance already had his seat in one of the pink arms chairs, and Keith could see him from the window as he approached the store. He noted the two coffee cups and two muffins with a smile. Lance was so generous, he’d really have to return the favor with dinner.

Or something.

“Hey you. How was your last exam?” Keith took the chair adjacent to him.

“I’m still mentally exhausted, but not exhausted enough for a muffin.” Lance picked up the object from table and peeled back the wrapper. “How are you feeling about your one class?”

“You know, the usual self doubt is kinda just… there,” he said honestly. He saw Lance frown and tried to sound a bit more cheery. “I mean, if I have to take a test it wouldn’t be _so_ bad.”

“You don’t feel like whatever you’ve drawn won’t make the top three?” Lance seemed upset, like Keith’s doubt really made him sad. Maybe it did. But Keith didn’t know why.

Lance was still a bit of a mystery Keith was trying to unravel. As much as he was an open book, there was another layer to him, like a hidden map on the inside cover that was helpful for understanding the story, but you could only see it if you pulled a certain tab.

Keith had yet to find that tab.

“I could but I dunno. I’ve never seen the art of the people in my class to compare.”

“You shouldn’t compare yourself to others.”

Keith scoffed at Lance’s cliche statement. “Like you don’t compare your test grades to everyone else.”

“Test taking isn’t exactly a skill, Keith.”

“Tell that to my roommate.”

“Shiro?”

“Yeah, he has the worst test anxiety. He pulls through it, usually. But last time they had a pop quiz in one of his classes he wasn’t okay for like two days.” Keith remembered how he would just sit and stare at the tv, lamenting in his head about whether or not he did good."

“What did you do?”

“I bought him Swiss Rolls. They’re a comfort food.” He threw a box at him on the second day, which definitely shook him out of his funk. Probably not the kindest way of helping his roommate.

“Well, maybe I’m lucky.”

“No, you’re smart. And have good test taking skills.” Keith didn’t understand how Lance could be so modest when he was literally _striving_ to become an astronaut.

An obvious blush rose to Lance’s cheeks, turning them maroon. “Aww, jeez. Thanks Keith.”

“You don’t have to thank me for the truth.” Keith couldn’t see what his bluntness was doing, but Lance certainly felt it. His heart pumped like gas at a Shell station.

“So, what are you going to do if your art’s not picked? The exhibition isn't mandatory, is it?”

“No. So I’m probably going to sulk, sit on my couch with ice cream and marathon something.” He had been wanting to catch up on _Space Ranger Partners,_ so that wasn’t actually a bad idea.

“That sounds sad and boring. Tell you what, if you don’t make into the exhibition…” Lance gave him one of his devious smiles, canine teeth sparkling. “I’ll take you to dinner instead.”

“Dinner?” _Why dinner?_

“Yeah. We can wear our good clothes, go somewhere a little fancier than Arus, and have some fun.”

Now, to any rational person, that would have sounded like a date. But since Keith lacked common sense, he didn’t read into it as he should have. Not that he ever expected someone to ask him on a date anyway. It was just another way to get out of his comfort zone.

“You know what… _deal._ ” He gave him his hand to shake and Lance took it, chuckling softly.

“Deal”

 

Monday.

It was the day.

The… Monday.

Keith walked into his class with a slight boost of confidence, since he had been texting Lance all morning and he had done nothing but send Keith positive messages and memes. Keith kept in mind that no matter what happened, he always had the option to spend time with Lance, and that brought, a small, secretive smile to his face. No one else had a ray of sunshine like that.

Coran spent the majority of class lecturing them on different artists, and the importance of allowing yourself to interpret things differently than you normally would. At the end of that, he pulled three portfolios out of his bag.

“So, these are the three people who are going to be featured in the exhibition, please meet me after class.” He read the names on the folders. “Alyssa Martin. Drake Calloway. And….” He squinted at the maroon folder. “Keith Kogane.”

Keith’s stomach dropped faster than a broken elevator. He was picked.

_I was picked!!!!_

“The rest of you, I expect full attendance for the rest of week. You’re dismissed.”

The class filed out and Keith made his way down to where Coran was already talking to the other two students. He waited patiently, but his heart still pounded in his chest. This wasn’t actually happening. This _wasn’t happening._

“Then I presume you’re Keith?” Coran pointed to him, ushering him forward. The other two students left, leaving them alone.

Keith nodded. “Yes sir.”

“I have to say, I was the most impressed with you. At first, I thought it was some type of forgery.”

“Ummm…”

“I’ve been teaching art for twenty-odd years, don’t be surprised.” He twirled his mustache between his fingers. “But after some careful research, I knew this was all yours, and I can say that your portrait series is the best I’ve had in the last five years.”

“Thank you, sir.” _Best? In five??? Years???_

“I need to ask what you would like to title your work.”

Keith had no idea what to name his work. He wasn’t good at naming things. He tried calling one of the lizards from home Horny Face, and he never forgot the way kid teased him.

“I… uh…” Keith thought back to when he saw the way Lance glowed against the background, light against the dark. Keith smiled and told Coran his title.

“Wonderful. One last thing. I always encourage my students to bring a friend. Showing art to students outside of this school is important.”

“I’ll bring someone.”

“Excellent. I will see you on Friday.”

 

Keith called Lance.

He had a hard time articulating his words over the excitement, so he told him just to meet him at Aroma. He wasn’t sure how to break the news without a voice cracking scream. Keith tried to keep a neutral expression as he entered the cafe and watched Lance bounce his leg nervously. Lance saw Keith enter and froze.

“Well?”

Keith tried his hardest to look almost disappointed, to keep Lance guessing. “He read the names today.”

“And?’

Keith sighed, and Lance’s face dropped.

“I got picked.”

Keith could see how hard Lance was processing that sentence, and his demeanor switched in an instant. He sprang out of his seat to give Keith a hug. “Keith, oh my god that’s amazing!”

Keith stiffened. He wasn’t a hugger. But something about Lance’s arms around him let him relax. He smelled like ocean breeze body soap. Calming. He let himself squeeze back.

When Lance broke the hug, Keith took the plunge. “I want you to come with me.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “To the exhibition?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know anything about art.”

“You don’t have to. It’s like a museum,” Keith explained. “You just have too look at everything. But you don’t have to...”

“Of course I’ll go. What kind of friend would I be?” said Lance. The amount of pride in his voice was very overwhelming to Keith. He never had someone outside of the orphanage care so much about his art. It was really nice.

“Do you want to meet here on Friday? The exhibition starts at eight but we can meet here at seven-thirty.” Keith was already a thousand steps ahead. “It’s kinda formal. Do you have a nice shirt?” Keith pointed to Lance’s ratty by choice tank top.

“Yes Keith, but let’s sit down and talk about it.” He noticed the cashier giving them a weird look.

“Okay.”

 

Keith was glad that Friday finally came. He wanted nothing more for it to be seven thirty so he could meet Lance at Aroma, but he was stuck getting ready. Shiro said he and Allura would be there after rehearsal, so he was getting ready alone. He buttoned the red shirt, looking at himself in the mirror. He wasn’t sure if he should be nervous, as much as it was a big deal, he felt it was something he should be getting used to. Shiro was almost never nervous during performances, because that’s what he was always confident in. Same with Allura and her dancing.

He ran a hand through his unruly hair. It was the only thing that looked out of place. A black hair tie rested in on the sink, and he took it and tied back his mullet.

_Better._

Keith glanced at the time on his phone. It was nearing seven-thirty, so he should have been heading out. He grabbed his wallet and keys and took a quick look outside. Dark clouds spread across the sky, but there was no way it was going to rain. He left the umbrella at the side of the door and left his dorm, locking the door behind him.

 

Rain pounded a familiar rhythm against the awning of the cafe that Keith stood under for shelter. It seemed to have no mercy, coming down in sheets. Why didn’t he bring that _stupid_ umbrella?

He pulled out his phone, checking for any messages from Lance. It was already seven forty-five, and there was no sign of him.

 

 **Me:** _Hey, are you on your way?”_

 

While Keith was concentrated on his phone, Lance lowered his umbrella and peered over his shoulder. “Who ya textin’?”

“Just Lance,” he said without any attention to who was speaking to him. He paused in realization and turned to see Lance smiling, holding an umbrella.

“This Just Lance seems like a cool guy. He also wants to say sorry for making you wait,” he smiled sheepishly. “Hunk would not let me leave without an umbrella. Good thing too, or you would have been stranded, or wet.” He held the umbrella up over them. “Shall we?”

Keith led the way. They walked down to the campus, chatting against the rain. He was careful to not get too close to Lance and invade his personal space, but that wasn’t helping him stay dry. Thankfully, Lance took notice.

“Is there not enough space?” he asked. Keith just looked at him strangely. Lance tsked and linked their arms, pulling Keith under the umbrella so that he was under it properly. They walked like that for the rest of the way to the art building, and Keith was grateful for the warmth.

Keith led them to the door of the Art Hall, where student’s art was displayed during exhibitions. It was exactly what Keith said: a museum.

Lance lowered his umbrella and opened the door for him.

“After you.”

Keith stepped inside and was greeted with blinding white walls and florescent lights.

“Hello. Welcome to the Fall Art Exhibition.” A girl with pink streaks in her hair greeted him. She handed him a glossy pamphlet. “This is the program. A layout of the hall and the names of the featured artists are there, seperated by section.” Keith opened it to look at where his artwork was. The inside of the building was shaped in a square eight, and they were at the bottom. Keith’s art was at the top. That gave them plenty of time to look around.

Lance finished shaking out his umbrella and walked inside, right behind Keith. He pushed up the sleeves of his blue button down, which were wet from the excess water. “Is that a map?” he asked, peering over his shoulder.

“Yeah.” Keith pointed to his name on at the top of the page. “That’s where my art is.”

“Well why are we still standing here? Let’s go.” Lance was already speeding towards the back of the building, but Keith grabbed him.

“Slow ya roll.” His Southern accent gave Lance a start as much as it did himself. “We have plenty of time. Let’s just, look around. There’s the sculptures.” He pointed to his right.

“Sure. We can look.” Lance said, still smiling excitedly.

They made their way around the exhibition, taking careful looks at all the sculptures and paintings. They were getting closer to Keith’s part of the exhibit, and Keith could feel the excitement swell in his chest.

“Hey Keith.” Lance stopped in front of one the abstract paintings. It was a white canvas splattered in red paint. In some places the paint had dripped down the canvas before drying. “What do you think the red means?”

“Probably anger. I’ve never really understood abstract.” Keith was more for solid ideas and images.

“I think it’s lust.” Lance pointed to the center of the canvas. “See that splatter? It almost looks like a heart. If anything, I think it’s frustration over not being able admit feelings.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know anything about art,” Keith questioned him.

“I don’t. I was bullshitting,” he laughed. “Come on, your art is just around the corner.” Lance took off like a bullet, and Keith trailed slowly behind him, the excited pounding growing louder in his ears. Keith rounded the corner  and saw Lance stopped in front of three framed portraits. Light oak wood surrounded the drawings of the boy dancing on the sidewalk.

“That’s… _me,_ ” he said with the same wide-eyed wonder as when he first saw himself on the page. He looked down to see the title of the work:

_Boy of the Sun by Keith Kogane_

“Surprise.” Keith spoke up after finally getting to his side.

Lance didn’t break his gaze. “Did… did you plan this?”

“Not intentionally.” Keith frowned. “Oh god. It bothers you. I should have asked but-”

“No! I love it.” Lance finally looked over to him. “But why me?”

"When you dance, I feel like you’re baring your soul for the world to see and those people, are shadows of doubt, and fear, that make it so intimate because it’s all of you plus everyone else."

Keith could feel Lance's questionable gaze boring into him, so he kept talking. "I mean, generally speaking, that's what I was going for." Keith looked at at his own art in question.

Lance looked back to the art, studying it closely.

"Is that really what I look like?"

"Hm?"

"Is that really what I look like when I dance? All... fluid and proper and-?"

"Beautiful?" Keith watched Lance's eyebrows skyrocket. "You have a ballerina look to you, I mean. Pretty." There was no saving himself from that one.

Lance stifled a laugh at Keith’s expense. “You know you _can_ compliment people, right?”

Keith blushed. “Well, then yeah, you’re beautiful.” Despite himself, Lance’s eyes widened. “When you dance. I told you you’re good.”

“Hey Keith!”

Saved by the Shiro.

Shiro strolled over to them. He was a sight for sore eyes in that plum shirt. “Man, this is the best exhibit I’ve seen! Is this your art?” He studied the portraits quickly. “I knew you were working hard at these but wow.” He finally seemed to see Lance standing there like a stalk of bamboo. “Who’s this?” He offered his prosthetic hand for a shake.

“I’m Lance.” He looked at Shiro’s hand with hesitation.

“I promise it won’t bite. Maybe pinch a little.”

Lance took his hand full heartedly, firmly shaking it.

“So you’re Lance, huh?” He gave Keith a discrete ‘he’s cute’ eyebrow waggle, and Keith responded with an eye roll worthy of Marcia Brady. “Keith’s told me about you. The whole alleyway incident.”

_Ugh._

“Yup, that’s me. Your local hero.”

Keith rolled his eyes again, but this time a small smile creeped on his lips.

“So you must be his roommate. Keith told me about you too,” he admitted. Keith snapped his head towards him and gave him a death glare. They did not need to turn into gossiping old men.

“Oh yeah? And what’s this pipsqueak said about me?”

_Lord help me._

“You like Swiss Rolls.”

Keith spotted his teacher from the corner of his eye in a baby blue plaid tuxedo, and decided to leave them to their self indulgent conversation about themselves.

“Hello, sir,” he greeted Coran.

Coran turned to face the new voice speaking to him. “Hello, uh, Kroger, was it?”

“Kogane. Keith, sir.”

“Ah, yes! Hello, my boy. Are you enjoying yourself?” He clapped him on the shoulder, knocking some wind out of him.

“Yes. I brought my friend.” Keith pointed to where Lance and Shiro were chumming it up, and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy.

“Oh, the one with the prosthetic?”

Keith couldn’t believe that his teacher was so brash. Then again, he _was_ Australian.

“No, the one in blue.”

Coran’s eyes flickered from Lance, to the painting, and back to Lance. His eyes lit up it a weird, knowing way. “You brought your muse!”

Keith was taken aback by Coran’s accusation. “Oh, no, he’s not my-”

“There’s nothing wrong with it, my boy. I had a long tumultuous relationship with my muse. He was a dark, handsome man by the name of Al, and that ended in ‘97. Then there was Cherice, and-”

“Oh, we’re just friends.” Keith felt the need to clarify.

“That’s still wonderful. Muses, they are important people. They can change your life.”

That was probably a nugget of wisdom Keith would appreciate later, but at the moment he wanted to get back to his friends. “Well, enjoy your night, Professor.”

“Same to you, young man.” Coran made his way to another group of students, and Keith went back to his friends.

“So Shiro,” he interrupted whatever banter they were having. “Where’s Allura?”

“She’s in the the sculpture section with one of her friends. She’s gonna love your work, Keith.”

Keith and Allura were pretty good friends at this point. As people that put up with Shiro, they had to be.

“I was just about to ask Lance here what it feels like to be the subject of an art piece.” He nudged Lance like they were the best of friends.

“Humbling. It’s definitely humbling.” He emphasized that with a look at Keith. “It’s so cool to see myself like that, honestly.”

“I’m sure Keith wouldn’t mind drawing you again.”

_Stop that you Pepe le Pew looking motherfu-_

“I’m sure he has better things to look at than me.”

_So modest._

“Well, we better keep looking around. I’d hate to not see everything.” Keith was already starting to to walk away, not even bothering to wait for Lance. “Tell Allura I said hello!”

Lance followed the storming Keith, much to Shiro’s amusement. He gazed at Keith’s drawings again, noting the title with a smile.

 

“Keith, wait up!” Lance called out to him. Keith finally stopped, letting Lance catch up. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he lied.

“Your roommate is just being a tease. He’s a musclehead, that’s what they do.”

Lance couldn’t have said something truer.

“I know.”

Lance studied him, trying to find the true emotion in his expression.

“You know, Hunk is the exact same way. Maybe they should be friends.”

Keith gave him a panicked look. “Do you think that’s _really_ a good idea?”

“No. No I don’t.”

Keith shook his head. Lance was so silly, he didn’t understand it sometimes. But it cheered him up, so there was that.

“You look tired,” Lance noticed. Keith’s eyes were a bit droopy, and he didn’t have his normal amount of caffeine this morning.

“I’m not tired,” Keith yawned. “Okay, maybe I am tired.”

“Well, let’s go.”

“Don’t you want to to see the rest of the exhibit?” he protested. He really didn’t want the night to end.

“I saw what I came to see, and that really can’t compare to a couple more portraits.”

That was like a quick shot of espresso to Keith’s system. He felt like he could take on the world.

“Let’s go.”

 

Lance insisted on walking Keith home. The rain had let up somewhat, no longer falling in sheets, but it had yet to cease, and Lance was the only one with the umbrella. The soft pelting of rain allowed for better conversation without having to speak over the forces of nature.

The dorm was not that far from campus, and they were there faster than either of them wanted.

“I hope it wasn’t too weird…” Keith started to say, but Lance waved it off.

“It was amazing! Besides, how often can you say a picture of you was displayed in a small museum?”

Keith loved how positive Lance was about everything. It made him secretly wish he wasn’t such a stick in the mud.

“You know, you should take a better look at yourself sometime. You’re not too bad yourself,” said Lance, not quite looking him in the eye.

_Wait._

“Good night Keith.” Lance waved as he walked away, leaving Keith to dissect that cryptic statement.

“Good night, Lance.”

 

Lance got pretty far from the building before shutting the umbrella with a sigh. It stopped raining.

He kicked at the puddles, not really caring if he ruined his shoes. He whistled the tune of “Umbrella”, strolling down the street. He felt his body respond to the rhythm he was creating, bouncing with each step. He wished he could break out and dance, like the way he did when he was home alone. But that was just a silly thing he did. It didn’t mean anything.

_Don’t get any ideas. You know what happened to Mom. They didn’t bring themselves here so you could be some superstar._

The familiar, nagging voice was back, telling him the same thing it always did.

_Think of your parents. Your siblings._

It had been quiet for such a long time.

_Stick to what you know before you ruin everything._

“Fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
> 
> I hope it was worth waiting for, I promise the next chapter won't take as long.


	3. If I Told You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Gammaw calls Keith to tell him of a party she's throwing for one of the of the kids, the only natural thing to follow is a road trip to the land of Yeehaw. Chaos ensues. It's fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WROTE THE LAST 5,000 WORDS ON 3 HOURS OF SLEEP SO I COULD UPLOAD TODAY I HOPE Y'ALL LIKE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> Thanks to tumblr user paperrabbit13 for helping me with the Spanish in the chapter, which with be translated below in the notes.
> 
> "If I Told You" -Darius Rucker

Keith’s week started with a phone call.

About two weeks after the exhibition, Gammaw called him, which was a surprise all on its own.

“How’s my van Gogh doing over there?” she asked when he answered.

“I’m doing fine Gammaw.”

“Congrats on your art being displayed. The pictures you sent were lovely.”

The exhibition lasted that whole weekend, and after realizing he didn’t get any pictures for her, he and Lance went back the next night. Lance made him stand in front of his work, despite being severely camera shy, and took over a dozen pictures. But they turned out to be his favorite.

“Thanks Gammaw.”

“You’re very welcome. Listen, Keith, I was fixin’ to have a birthday party for X on Saturday, and he really wants you to be there.”

“Gammaw, you know that’s a sixteen hour drive.”

“I know, and I told him not to get his hopes up. But he misses you. They all do.”

Keith felt the pang of guilt in his chest. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to, it was just hard. Driving sixteen hours was tough, especially when he knew he had class and tons of work to do on Monday.

“I can try, but Gammaw-”

“I know, no promises.” She couldn’t hide her disappointment and that made him feel bad.

He would try to figure something out.

 

Keith was on his way to the store the next morning. If he couldn’t be there, the least he could do is get him a gift and a card and mail that to him. He was still trying to work out a way to get there instead, but that was slowly turning into less and less of a possibility.

“Is that…? Hey Keith!”

Keith stopped in his tracks and turned to see who was calling his name. “Oh, hey Lance.”

Lance jogged up to him. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Just headed to the store. What are you doing?”

“Oh, my family is visiting.” Lance pointed a thumb behind him at the small group of people trailing behind him. There was a short, older woman who had to be Lance’s mom, and a tall tan man Keith had to guess was his dad. A small boy that looked just like a mini Lance gripped his mother’s hand, and there was a small girl nestled in crook of her dad’s neck, being held firmly by his arm. She seemed tuckered out already. As they approached Keith could make out smaller details: Lance and his mom had the same eyes, right down to the smile lines, and his dad had a graying mustache. The girl in his arms had on a pale pink dress that was covered by by her curls, and the boy had on little alligator crocs. They were definitely how Keith remembered. It was just amazing to see them in person.

“Keith, this is my family. Mama, dad, _este es el increíble artista amigo de quien te hablé. Por favor no me avergüences_.”

Keith saw their eyes simultaneously travel over to him, looking him over. Suddenly Keith wished he had cared more about his appearance and maybe wore hat to cover his crazy bed head.

“Keith,” his mother spoke, testing the name on her tongue. “Lance speaks highly of you. It’s nice to meet the one that takes up most of our son’s attention.”

Keith wasn’t sure if that was completely a compliment. He looked to Lance to see if that was positive. He wore a strained smile, as if something was pinching his nipple and he couldn’t say anything. Then again, Keith had no idea that Lance’s mom _wasn’t_ supposed to say that.

He laughed nervously. “Thank you, Mrs. McClain. It’s nice to meet you, too. Lance talks about you guys all the time.”

“Does he?” asked Mr. McClain. His voice was deep and rugged like a whisky barrel. “I thought we _embarrassed_ him.”

Now Lance looked straight up pained. Keith wasn’t sure if something was wrong or not, so he just kept smiling.

“No, of course not, _Papa_.” Lance shifted his attention to his little brother. “Jojo, would you like to show Keith your drawing?” He knelt down to his eye level. He nodded, stepping forward. He fished a folded piece of paper out of the pocket of his basketball shorts and handed it to Keith, immediately shying way against his mother’s leg.

Keith opened the paper carefully, revealing a crayon drawing of a green dinosaur.

“Issa dinosaur,” Jojo said quietly.

“It’s the best dinosaur I’ve ever seen,” Keith told him. Jojo’s gap-toothed grin stretched from ear to ear.

“You can keep it,” he told Keith shyly.

“I couldn't possibly keep such a masterpiece. That should be hung somewhere for all to see.” Keith told him, handing it back. “From one artist to another.”

Lance’s smile while watching the exchange between Keith and his brother could be seen from space, but it was right there for his not quite oblivious parents to see, and that was enough for them not to mess with Lance around Keith anymore.

“Did you hear that mama?” Jojo looked back to his mom, pride exuding from every pore. “It’s a mastapiece.”

“I heard.” She smiled at Keith with welcoming warmth. “Well, it was nice meeting you Keith, but Leandro here wanted to show us this wonderful place for dinner.”

Keith straightened, fixing his posture so he didn’t look like such a slouch as he was before. “Oh, of course, I won’t keep you.” He looked over at Lance, who had shaken the too fond smile from his face. “See you later?”

It was a question that didn’t need to be answered.

Lance nodded. They went their separate ways, the McClains crossing the street and Keith continuing up.

Lance looked back to watch Keith walk away.

Keith was hoping he would be watching him leave, though he didn’t quite know why.

 

Keith’s decision was coming down to the grindstone; he hadn’t given Gammaw an exact answer but he wanted to say yes. It was stressing him out more than the prospect of finals. He wanted an outside opinion, someone to help him with his decision, so naturally he invited Lance to meet him at Aroma that Wednesday afternoon, like it wasn’t already normal for them at this point.

He waited for Lance to grab his iced hot chocolate, which was a thing he didn’t understand either. What was the point? Why not get chocolate milk? Or a drink that was already cold?

“So, what seems to be troubling you, buckaroo?” Lance tried to lighten the mood with some cowboy humor, which helped.

Just a little.

Keith let out a deep sigh. “Gammaw is throwing a party for Texas X, and she invited me back out to the farmhouse this weekend for it. She said the youngins’ miss me and it would be a nice surprise for them if I came.”

Lance noticed the sadness that crept into his voice when he talked about the “family that wasn’t his family”. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“No, it’s just… that’s ‘bout a sixteen hour drive, and I don’t know if I wanna do that all by myself, and then they’ll get all rowdy when I get there and ask me to stay, and I don’t know if I wanna disappoint them. I mean, I am visiting for Christmas, and I don’t why they can’t just wait until then.”

“I mean, it sure sounds like X would like your presence… as a present. He’s turning… what, eight?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you only turn eight once. Besides,” Keith was becoming more and more familiar with Lance’s scheming smirk. “Who said you have to go alone?”

It took a second for Keith to realize what he was implying, eyes widening at the same time. “Oh, no, Lance, bless you, really, but I can’t ask-”

“It’s a good thing I’m volunteering.” Lance genuinely wanted to help Keith because, after seeing him interacting with Jojo, he knew he needed to see them more than he wanted to admit. “We can split the driving shift. Eight hours and some change each. You know, for gas stops.”

“Shiro _does_ have a cooler I can borrow for water and snacks,” Keith remembered, like he was starting to warm up to the idea. “Are you sure you can spare the time? Wouldn’t you rather… study?”

“You know, I checked my schedule, and,” he made the show of looking through his phone’s calendar. “Look at that! This is the one weekend I have open for _not_ studying.” He sat back, satisfied and confident that there was no way Keith would say no.

Keith shook his head to distract from the obvious blush rising to his cheeks. How was Lance even _real?_

“Fine. If you really think you can handle Red and the Texas back roads, you can come.”

Keith watched Lance’s confidence drop visibly. “Who’s Red?”

“My Camaro.”

“You named your car?” he asked, as if that was the most abnormal thing he ever heard.

“Have you ever owned a car?” he retorted.

Lance shrugged at him after Keith kept glaring at him with equal judgement. “Cool. Anyway, about these back roads?”

Keith chuckled.

This was going to be a fun road trip.

 

Lance volunteered to buy water and snacks, (even though Keith protested), and dropped them off. Shiro watched Keith curiously as he put the water in the fridge, and the snacks on the counter. There was a different energy about him, a positive one that showed a side of Keith he didn’t get to see very often.

“So… this road trip. You got everything for it?” he asked from his place on the couch, where he was reading a scene script for class.

“You’re still letting us use the cooler, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then, yeah, I got everything,” Keith told him, shoving the second case of water inside, and shutting the fridge quickly.

“What about a blanket? Change of clothes?”

“Already in my trunk.” It amazed Keith how a twenty-five year old frat boy could be such a dad. Like he didn't have his own responsibility to not get alcohol poisoning. Or not use the pull out method.

“Are you sure you don't need anything else? Two guys in a hot car…”

“Can get very sweaty. That reminds me, I almost forgot sunscreen. Texas sun is terrible, ya know.”

Since the exhibition Keith had been avoiding the subject of Lance. Namely the way Shiro would bring him up after talking about his dates with Allura, like Keith was supposed to tell him that, he too, had gone to the park to pick flowers with Lance. There was no flower picking, no hand holding. Keith and Lance were still _friends_. Why Shiro couldn’t grasp that, he couldn't understand, and it annoyed him greatly.

“Keith.” Shiro watched him put the sunscreen and deodorant from the bathroom into a small backpack for the trip. “You like him-”

“You don’t know what I like Shiro.”

All this talk about feelings was going to make the trip awkward. The _last_ thing Keith wanted was some giant realization that changed how he saw Lance. This was about his fam- the kids at the orphanage.

“Have you ever considered that you’re missing out?”

“Have _you_ considered that I don’t _want_ to like anyone? That it gets in the way of things that are important? Like, I dunno.... _School?_ ” Keith tossed the bag onto his bed in annoyance, but Shiro didn’t even blink.

“You can’t control feelings.” Shiro told him.

“Coming from an actor, that’s pretty rich.”

“I mean genuine feelings.”

“I can, and you can’t stop me.”

Keith had better things to worry about.

 

They planned to meet up at the student parking garage at seven-thirty on Friday. Keith had everything packed in the trunk, save for cooler in the backseat and one blanket for when one of them wanted to sleep. Keith was taking the shift from eight until four in the morning, so that meant Lance could rest if he wanted to.

Keith leaned against Red’s hood, waiting for Lance to show. The sun was already setting, and Keith wanted to make it to the highway before it was completely dark.

“Well don’t you look rustic?” Lance observed, pointing to Keith’s ripped blue jeans and white t-shirt. “Where’s your hat, cowboy?”

“In the trunk. Don’t worry, I got you one, too.” He nudged him in the side, and Lance gave him a look that asked if he was serious. Keith just went to the driver’s seat, leaving Lance to wonder about the Shrodinger’s cowboy hat. He followed him, getting in on the other side. Keith turned on the GPS, and the trip began.

“So what should I expect? When we get there?” asked Lance, as they pulled out of the garage and made their way onto the road.

Keith had to think for a moment. “Well, a lot of questions. Mainly from the kids. They’re not used to me bringing anyone.”

“You never had friends over?” Lance asked with a small laugh, like they were sharing a joke. Keith wasn’t even smiling.

“I’d rather not talk about it.” Keith stared hard at the road in front of him. Lance wanted to apologize, but he wasn’t sure if it would help. Not the start he wanted.

“What about the woman that raises them? You call her Gammaw?”

Keith’s expression softened. “You’ll like her. She’s amazing. She turned the farmhouse into an orphanage after she got divorced, and raised me with her daughter Mallorie, after I was left there. I was her first orphan. She loves kids and she’ll like you, I think.”

“That’s reassuring,” said Lance.

“I’m sorry. It’s just… hard to explain my situation to people. I still have trouble.”

“Well, I don’t have to ask you about it.”

“I mean, I should offer something, since you’re coming with me. Which, I appreciate.” He gave Lance a quick glance. “I really do.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with.” Lance told him softly.

Keith watched the road, but he could tell Lance was sorry, even though he didn’t need to be.

“So, when I was ten, we, me and some other kids, found a lizard with no tail. We named him Stumpy.”

Keith regaled him with stories of various animals that came into the farmhouse as pets. There was one point where a calf from a farm not too far from them snuck into the house and the rest of kids just let it eat their popcorn right from the bowl, unbothered. It even had a name: Keaton.

That was how the first few hours of the ride went before Lance decided to take a nap, snatching the blanket from the back seat. He curled up against the leather seating, forehead pressed against the window. Keith would occasionally steal glances at him as a distraction from the long boring road. The moonlight that sometimes shone through the window cast strange shadows on his face, mainly over his slightly open mouth that let out small snoring noises. Keith wished he could pull over and draw the scene, but he was content with keeping it a memory.

The radio played softly: the further west they went the more country seemed to be the genre of choice, which Keith didn’t mind. It was like the music was bringing him home.

Around two in the morning Keith was switching radio stations, trying to find something that wasn’t some weird ASMR sounding nightmare, when he heard the distinct “ _Woooo_ ” from the beginning of “Life is a Highway” by Rascal Flatts.

“Oh, I love this song.” He reached for the knob to turn it up, but looked over at Lance, who was still seemly asleep, and thought against it.

Lance wasn’t really asleep. He hadn’t really been asleep for the last half hour, but he didn’t want to bother Keith with small talk. So he pretended to sleep while listening to the radio. He had never heard so much twangy gargling in his life, but that was the one country song he could jam to, and apparently so could Keith.

He cracked one eye open, watching Keith tap out the beat on the steering wheel. It was really cute, seeing Keith quietly jamming out to his cowboy songs.

“ _Life is highway, I wanna ride it all night long.”_

Keith muttered along to the radio, trying to be as quiet as possible.

Lance decided to not let Keith have all the fun.

“ _If you’re goin’ my way, I wanna drive it all night long.”_ Lance echoed, startling Keith.

“Oh, Lance, you’re awake. I’m sorry.” He reached to turn off the radio so he could let him go back to sleep, but Lance sat up, tossing the blanket onto the floor.

“No, common, rock out.” He turned up the radio, bopping along.

 _“Through all these cities and all these towns, it’s in my blood and it’s all around.”_ Lance sang with an exaggerated twang, poking Keith in the ribs.

“ _I loved you now like I loved you then. This is the road, and these are the hands._ ” Keith caved, joining with full force, even though he felt like he was singing like the equivalent of a dying goose.

He wasn’t.

“ _From Mozmemembe city to those Memphis nights, the Keebler cookies to Vancouver’s lights._ ”

Keith laughed at Lance’s made up lyrics.

“ _Knock me down and back up again. You’re in my blood, I’m not a lonely man._ ”

Lance’s grin was bigger than a cheshire cat’s. He was having so much _fun_.

“ _There is no load that I can’t hold._ ”

“ _A road so rough this I know._ ”

“ _I’ll be there when the light comes in-”_

“ _JUST TELL ‘EM WE’RE SURVIVORS!”_ Keith tapped out the rhythm with his palms against the steering wheel. He banged his head like he was at the center of a rock concert, and Lance watched him in almost frightened surprise. He was so… enthusiastic. It was wonderful.

Not to let Keith outdo him, he cranked down his window, shouting into the void of the unending road. “ _Life is a highway, I wanna ride it all night long.”_

Keith watched the wind tangle its forgiving fingers in Lance’s hair and his smile was unwavering. “ _If you’re goin’ my way, I wanna drive it all night long._ ”

They stopped their singing to collapse into a fit of giggles. Neither had expected the other to go so hard but, it happened. And now they were in hysterics while the song still played.

“ _There was a distance between you and I._ ”

Keith caught his eye, brushing back his bangs that were starting to stick to his forehead. Lance’s laughter faded into a smile, but he found it hard to look back into Keith’s navy eyes.

“ _A misunderstanding once, but now we look in the eye._ ”

Lance felt his gaze pulled in Keith’s direction. His smile was a magnet and it left him in a puddle of emotions.

How was he going to to survive this trip without telling him?

“Hey cowboy.”

The twinkle in his eye lit the bomb that was his heart. “Yeah?”

“Did I ever tell you I that I love Rascal Flatts?”

Keith’s laugh drowned out the music.

Little did he know, that wouldn’t be the last bonding moment of the day.

 

They pulled into a gas station around four in the morning, to switch spot and get a tank of gas so they could ride straight into Texas. Lance insisted on stopping inside because he wanted a Twinkie, so Keith pumped by himself. They were making good time. At the rate they were going, they would make it to Gammaw’s by noon, which would give them plenty of time to be at the party. He was sure Gammaw would want to catch up with him properly.

“Hey Tex, are we full yet?” Lance popped up on the other side of Red, propping his chin against the top of the camaro.

“Just about.” He looked at Lance’s bodiless head. “Did you get something?”

“Oh yeah!” Lance walked over to the other side of the car, promptly leaning against the hood, showing Keith his box of snack cakes.

“What the fuck are those?”

“Chocolate. Twinkies.” He opened the box while Keith looked on with disgust.

“That sounds nasty.” The sound of cellophane was grating to his ears as Lance tore one of them open.

“How would you know it's nasty if you never tried it?” he asked.

“Because I can tell. In theory, any Twinkie is nasty. They don't expire!!! How do you trust that?” Keith exclaimed, taking the pump and shaking it before putting it back.

“Why don't you try it?” Lance smirked.

“I'm not putting that anywhere near my mouth until I see you eat it first.” Keith pulled out his wallet to get out his his debit card.

Lance shrugged and pulled out one of the offending snack cakes from the package and took one big bite. Keith winced.

“You are the grossest man I’ve ever met.”

“Now try it,” said Lance, thrusting the package in his direction.

Keith reached out hesitantly, nearly grabbing the package, but stopped. He went through with finishing the gas purchase, sliding his card on the pad.

“Come on, do I have to feed you?”

Keith grinned while he punched in his PIN. He opened his mouth jokingly, holding it open like he really want Lance to feed him.

Lance raised an eyebrow at this sudden change of character. “I’m not gonna shove the thing in your mouth like a heathen. Get closer.”

He leaned over, mouth still open, carrying the joke. Lance wasn’t complaining, but feeding a cute guy a Twinkie in a Louisiana gas station was not what he ever expected to do on this trip.

He tore off a piece from the other end, and placed in between Keith’s teeth. He looked like he was gonna spit it right back out from laughing; he was shaking and making weird noises that Lance took for laughter.

Keith shoved it in with a finger, still laughing. He chewed the oddly textured cake before speaking. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“Right, like I’m such a sucker for wanting to share.” Lance looked embarrassed. “You got something on your lip.”

“Huh?” Keith checked his reflection on the metal of the station. “I don’t see anything.”

“Oh, it’s right there,” Lance rubbed his fist against Keith’s lip in a mocking punch. He pointed to his fist. “See? There’s the cream, and right next to that is my dignity.”

“You are such a drama king.” Keith looked up and spotted a guy staring at them from the corner of his eye. How long had he been standing there?

He was a gruff, older man with a graying beard worthy of Duck Dynasty, and he was smoking a cigarette, leaning against the ice machine. He didn’t seem to happy at what he was looking at.

Them.

“Hey Lance.”

“Yeah.”

“Get in the car.” He spoke in a low, serious voice, catching his attention.

“What, what’s wrong?” Lance turn to see who Keith was looking at, but Keith grabbed his arm to stop him.

“Lance, just look at me.”

He did just that.

“Please get in the car.”

Lance nodded, moving unsuspiciously to the other side of Red and opening the door quickly to get inside.

Keith watched the man flick the cigarette to the ground,  as he glared at him. Keith stared right back, not letting fear control his actions in  this crucial moment. He moved slowly to the driver’s side of the car watching the man intently. He didn’t seem ready to move, but Keith knew what he was waiting for.

He knew what men like him always waited for.

Opportunity.

Keith opened the door, looking at the man one last time before dipping inside.

“Keith.”

He started the car silently, refusing to look.

“ _Keith._ ”

Keith looked out of Lance’s window to see the man approaching with a fist raised and angry fire in his soulless eyes.

Keith hit the gas, peeling out of the gas station, leaving the man in a cloud of dust.

“I can’t believe there are still places where people like us aren’t safe.” Lance said softly.

At first, Keith didn’t really get it. He thought maybe the guy was drunk, the way he charged at them. They were just two guys, having fun. Chatting. What could that man be so angry about?

Then it hit him, when Lance spoke. He knew exactly what the man didn’t like.

 

Keith took another hour driving before they stopped and switched places. They would have switched earlier, like at that gas station, but Keith wanted to get as far away from that dodgy ass town as possible.

“Lance? Are you okay?” he finally asked, curling up on the passenger seat. The sun was going to start rising soon, so he didn’t have much time to fall asleep, but he wanted to check and see if Lance was okay.

That was more important.

“I’m fine. Are you?” he asked.

“I’m a little worried.”

“About what?”

Keith frowned. “You regretting to come on this trip.”

Lance sighed. “Keith. This is the most fun I’ve had in ages. And we’re not even at the party yet.”

He perked up at that. “Really?”

“Convincing you to eat Twinkies AND singing Rascal Flatts in one morning? Oh yeah. Most eventful trip ever.” He paused. “Yeah, that homophobe charging at us wasn't cool, but you escaped like a pro. Like a Fast and Furious character!”

Keith smiled at that. “I was _that_ cool?”

“You're always that cool.”

“Thanks… Astro Boy.”

Lance grinned. “Get some sleep, cowboy.”

 

Keith fell asleep rather quickly, leaving Lance to enjoy some silence. Not that talking to Keith while he drove bothered him. He just prefered driving while it was quiet. It was easier to focus that way. Keith was so quiet while he slept, however, that Lance occasionally glanced over to see if he was still there at all, like he could somehow disappear from their moving car.

Hey, weirder things have happened in the south.

The silence let Lance think. Really think.

Why did Keith pretend to act so detached from the orphanage? From what he gathered, it was a good place. He was never… abused, or anything like that. So what was the big deal? Why did it seem so hard for him just to visit?

Lance wanted nothing more to ask these personal questions, but he knew better than to just pry. After all, it would be something Keith would eventually tell him.

Like Lance was going to tell him about the dancing… and his mom.

Key word: eventually.

He was just waiting for the right time.

 

“Keith, wake up.” Lance gently nudged the sleeping boy’s shoulder, stirring him from his slumber.

“Mmmm? What’s up?” asked Keith groggily. He blinked once, twice, and rubbed his eyes.

“We’re about forty-five minutes away, I thought you’d want some time to wake up.”

“Oh, thanks.” Keith yawned, stretching his arms to the ceiling. “The driving been okay?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” said Lance ever so modestly.

“Y’ain’t gotta be so modest.” Keith’s sarcasm dripped like honey from a spilled jar.

“Excuse me what the fuck is a y’ain’t?”

Keith looked him dead in the eye. “Y’all’d’ve been saying it, too, if you were raised in the South.”

Lance swallowed audibly. Keith was speaking in tongues.

It was kinda hot.

“We’re gonna be pulling up soon,” Lance complete derailed that subject.

Keith pulled down the passenger mirror to check his hair. “Do I look okay?”

“I know you took hours, but to everyone else: effortless.”

“You’re so weird. Turn there.”

Keith pointed to a dirt road that lead to the farm house. Lance listened and soon they were cruising smoothly to the orphanage. The white paneling was a welcoming site to eyes that were starting to grow weary of the asphalt roads. Keith spotted the familiar porch that took up half the the front of the house, and its set of wicker chairs where he would come out and sketch the sky, or the flowers.

He was glad Gammaw decided to keep them after all.

Lance pulled off to the side of the house where other cars were parked. He turned off the ignition and the opened their doors.

“Toss me the keys.”

Lance tossed the keys so Keith could open the trunk. Keith popped it open, taking out two cowboy hats, and a small gift bag.

Eyeing the cowboy hats with contempt, Lance shut the trunk. “You were serious.”

“It’s a themed party, _partner_.” Keith handed over the black hat, placing the straw colored one on his head. “Buckle up, buckaroo.”

As they approached the front door, Lance felt a flurry of emotions, from slightly threatened to nearly aroused by that statement.

But really, he was just grateful to be by Keith’s side.

After knocking on the door (like a proper Southern gentleman), they were greeted by a shorter, older Chinese woman in a bright yellow sundress and matching straw hat. Her long, graying hair reached past her shoulders, and her brown eyes seemed to lose all age when she saw Keith standing there.

“Howdy.”

Her lips stretched in a small smile. “You made it.”

“I couldn’t let our cowboy down,” he told her, and she brightened. Her eyes traveled over to Lance.

“Who’s this you’ve brought here?” she asked him, scanning Lance up and down like a human sized barcode.

“Oh!” Keith looked back at Lance, who was shyly standing behind him. “This is Lance. He’s a friend from ‘round campus parts.”

Lance stepped forward, holding out his hand. “Nice to meet you ma’am.”

She looked down at his hand and Lance seemed to shrink a little at her scrutiny. Keith glanced between them. Lance wasn’t nearly as intimidated in front of Shiro.

She took his hand in a firm grip and shook it. “You look like you’re from the city.” She turned back to Keith. “Is that what I’m seeing here? A pair of city folk?”

She was obviously joking, but Keith could help but fire back. “Isn’t Mallorie ‘city folk’ now?”

“My daughter _stayed_ in Texas, unlike you, son,” she shot back just as quickly. “You were the one that told me you _had_ to go to big ‘ole Florida, to Miami.”

“West Palm, Gammaw. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were being green tea-like.”

Lance watched their exchange like a white person coming across a telenovela for the first time. Were they actually angry or was that how Texans… bantered?

She chuckled, so Lance took that as a good sign that there wouldn’t be a duel at high noon, pistols poppin’.

“Well, don’t just stand there like clothes on the line! Come in!” She ushered them inside. “Oh, Xavier! There’s another party guest here to see you!” She called out.

Lance shut the door behind them. This was already starting off well.

The sound of stomping feet coming from another room grew louder, and a young black boy rounded the corner, holding a fake glowing purple hand that could slip on like a glove. Excitement flashed in the boy’s eyes like headlights. “Keith! Oh my gosh!”

“Hey Tex- oof!” He was nearly knocked over by sheer force of X’s hug. “Woah there, buddy. Don’t kill me before the party starts.”

Xavier looked up and down at Keith’s cowboy attire. “Why are you dressed like that?”

“I thought this was a cowboy party?” Was Keith misinformed?

“No, it’s a Space Ranger Partners party!”

Well, shit.

Keith’s smile dropped faster than an anchor out at sea. He wasn’t not prepared at all. Maybe he could run out to Walmart and get him one of those flying robot toys.

Xavier, bless him, saw Keith’s panic and couldn’t keep a straight face. “Ha! I got you, Keith!”

“Huh?” Keith gave the boy a questioning look. Just seconds ago he was deep in his brain trying to remember which robot was X’s favorite. “Got me?”

“Gammaw told me to tell you that! I had you fooled. And you’re supposed to be an adult.” Xavier looked like he was on the verge of falling to the floor from laughing, like tricking an adult was the highlight of his day.

“Oh, Gammaw told you?” He was ready to glare at her, but she had slunked away while Xavier was hugging him. What a traitor.

“Where’d she go?” he asked Lance, but he just shrugged. He wasn’t watching her.

“I’ve disappeared. Don’t come looking for me,” her voice came from the kitchen. Keith sighed.

“So, where’s your gift table?”

“In the living room!” Xavier grabbed Keith by the hand and dragged him away, and Lance just followed them silently.

They walked through the dining room, which was set up with all the birthday decorations. Brown and blue streamers adorned the trim at the top of the white walls, punctuated by red and white balloons at each corner. Bowls for snacks sat under bandanas, and there were plates shaped like cowboy hats at each seat, with star studded cups.

 _Gammaw really went all out._ Keith thought, impressed.

They went through the doorway on the left, into the large living room. The table set up for X’s gifts was on the other side, not too far from the TV. Keith watched most of the kids turn to see who was coming in, and he could here a couple audible gasps.

“Guys, it’s Keith!” Xavier announced. Soon Keith was swarmed by a few boys and girls, all trying to hug him. Lance watched in amusement. It was funny how they all flocked to him. It was adorable.

“Okay, okay, guys, you gotta let me put X’s gift away.”

“Yeah, don’t break my gift!”

The crowd of tiny bodies dispersed, letting Keith through to put his gift on the table. With him not in their direct line of vision, they turned their attention to Lance, who was standing in the doorway.

“Keith, who’s that?” A small girl with brown pigtails pointed at Lance, and it felt like a spotlight.

“That’s my friend Lance.” Keith didn’t understand why he was being so shy. First Gammaw, now he was being all silent around the kids.

“You have a friend, Keith?” asked a voice from the couch. A boy around thirteen sat there, watching a rerun of _Space Ranger Partners_. He turned to give Keith a teasing smile.

“Of course I do, Jaime.” He rolled his eyes. “Did Gammaw tell you to give me a hard time?”

“No, I just like messing with you, big brother.”

Keith laughed, but it was sort of forced. Lance could tell.

“Where’s Elle? She is the one person that won’t mess with me today.” He looked around the living room, thinking she might be hiding somewhere. “Is she upstairs?”

Jaime frowned, and Lance could see he knew something Keith didn’t.

“Keith, she’s-”

“Hey Keith, come help me in here!” called Gammaw.

“Coming!” he yelled. “I’ll find her later.” He told Jaime, leaving the room and leaving Lance with the kid.

Lance watched Keith leave, his own mouth twisting. _Now what?_

Jaime looked at Lance, who was still standing awkwardly. “You know you can come sit. The younger kids are playing with their toys,” he told him.

Lance shuffled over to the couch, sitting on the other side. He watched the character in the black drive a glowing hand through a robot’s torso.

“ _Joderlo_ ." Jamie muttered. 

" _¿Tu hablas español?_ " 

" _Soy mexicano. ¿Tú?_ " 

" _Cubano_."

Jaime smirked.

“So, how long have you known my brother?” he asked, carrying on in Spanish to keep away prying ears.

“A few months. Our schools are next to each other.” He paused to get his wording a little more tactful. “How long have you lived here?”

“Five years. My parents were in an accident.”

“You didn’t have any family here?” That was so upsetting, not having family.

“They’re on the other side of the fence. And they didn’t want to send me there.”

Lance understood.

“Can I ask you something? Not to change the subject.”

“Go ahead.”

Jaime looked down at his hands and sighed. “You’re older, so you probably have a good answer to this. I was gonna ask Keith but I wasn't sure-”

“Relax. I won’t judge.” Lance gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“So, there’s this guy I’m friends with. I know I like girls, but I feel the same way around him when I’m around a cute girl. Is that… weird?”

Lance shook his head. “No. You’re bisexual, probably. Like me. I’ve had crushes on all different people.”

“I was starting to think that. Then I saw the way you looked at Keith and-” Jaime watched Lance’s eyebrows skyrocket. “What? Aren’t you together?”

“No,” said Lance softly.

Jaime mirrored Lance’s earlier expression. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish.”

“Why haven’t you asked him out?”

“I’ve tried, but it’s never at the right time.” Lance admitted.

“Well, do it here!”

“You want me to ask out your brother at an eight year old's birthday party?”

“It's the perfect place. And you're gonna be here for a while. You really have no excuse.”

He hated that Jaime was right.

“You're a bit young to be such a smart ass.” Lance teased him.

“I have great influences. Speaking of,” he gestured to the doorway. Keith had been standing there for probably less than a minute, but he seemed concerned. “Hey Keith. Everything alright?” he asked in English.

“Yeah, I was just helping Gammaw with the cake. She told me that the party hasn't started yet because we're waiting on a few of X’s friends from school.” He looked at Jaime. “She also told me to tell you Bart is coming over so you're not bored.”

Jaime smiled, a smile that had become familiar to Lance himself in the last three months. “Sweet.”

“Lance, did you want to come check out my room? I was going to go up there to see if there was anything I could bring back to Florida.”

Jaime subtly nudged him in the ribs as encouragement.

“Sure, love to.”

Lance followed Keith up the stairwell that led to the upstairs, where all the kids bedrooms were. Since the majority of the kids were younger, they shared rooms, the girls in one and the boys in the other, so the only rooms left for one person were Jaime, Keith, and the guest bedroom that was usually left for Mallorie.

Keith's door had a giant red K marked with red tape.

“I wonder who's room _this_ is?” Lance asked sarcastically, as Keith pulled out his keys to unlock the door.

“Haha.” They both heard the distinct clink of the lock opening. “Got it.”

Keith opened the door slowly, surely expecting dust to erupt from behind it, but it didn't. Gammaw must have been dusting while he was gone.

He flicked on the light. “Welcome to studio Kogane.”

The room was sparse, as far as decoration went. There weren't very many posters like a regular kid’s room, but a few art pieces that adorned the walls. A painting of a sunset hung above his bed, and the blue EK in the corner told Lance that it wasn't just his painting.

A wooden art desk sat on the other side of the room across from the bed, next to the closet. A dresser was on the same wall as the entrance door, and that was decorated with small pop figurines of comic book characters and what Lance swore was a Sasuke. Yes, _that_ Sasuke.

The last piece of furniture was a shelf filled with books and ceramics and some art supplies. All things Lance expected to see.

“Nice,” was all Lance could really say. It wasn't astounding, as rooms go. For an artist Lance expected more, like… a recreation of _Starry Night_ on one of the walls or something.

“It's not much, I know.” Keith made his way over to the bed. He sat on it, testing the springiness, before laying down. “But it's home.”

“Not to be _that_ person, but I was expecting it to be colorful. Or covered in failed anime drawings,” he joked.

Keith scoffed. “Not sure what kind of artist your friend is, but we're not all the same. But if you want color, look up at the ceiling.” Keith pointed up.

Lance did so. The once white ceiling was splattered with an array of colors. It didn't look intentional.

“What happened?”

“The Great Paint Disaster of 2013,” said Keith solemnly, like he was talking about death rather than paint.

“I vaguely remember you mentioning it. What happened?”

Keith motioned for him to come sit down next to him. Lance did, taking off his shoes before sitting up against the headboard, knees to chest.

“So, a year before I enrolled in the Art Institute, I was working in my art portfolio that I would have to send in. One of requirements was a painting, so I was working on that for like a week.” He twiddled his thumbs as he spoke. “One of my brushes completely conked out on me, like all the bristles fell out. It was a shit brush.” It had been one of his favorites before it fell apart, but that was unnecessary detail. “So I went out to our local craft store to get a new one, but I left my door unlocked.”

Lance let out a small gasp.

“Yeah. So, and I'm not sure which kid did it first but… _bless their little hearts_ for taking interest in my paint.”

Oh, Lance could only imagine his pain.

“The painting was unharmed, but my ceiling?” he glanced up. “Didn't survive the attack.”

“Jesus.”

“After Elle came here, she said she “missed out on all the fun”, so I let her paint a pink heart near the corner up there.” He pointed to the ceiling again, trying to get Lance to see it.

Squinting, he stared at where Keith was pointing. “You mean that little blob?”

Keith nudged him. “You can't see it 'cause you're sitting up. Lay down like me.”

Lance blinked. _Lay… Next to Keith?_

“Are you sure this isn't indecent?” he joked, not really complaining but wow this was close, even for Lance. He slid into a laying position, noticing their heads nearly touching on their shared pillow, as well as their arms. It was a twin bed, definitely not meant for two people.

He had to admit, the heart was definitely defined from that angle.

Keith stifled a laugh. Lance was nothing but jokes. Not that he cared. It was nice, to laugh.

“Hey Lance, what does that blue splatter represent?” Keith pointed to the one right by the shelf.

“Hmmm…” Lance rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Immense sadness. It's reminiscent of Picasso's blue period.”

Keith was impressed. “You said you don't know anything about art.”

“I might have remembered something from high school.” Or maybe he just borrowed one of Pidge’s books so he could learn something they could talk about.

“Hmmm, okay, what about that green one?”

“Happiness. Like someone found something important to them.”

“The black one?”

“Regret. Like the person wanted to tell someone something a while ago but lost the chance.”

Lightly punching Lance's jaw the way Lance did to Keith at the gas station would have been too awkward, so Keith settled for a boop on the nose. “What could a child possibly regret?”

“Pissing in the cookie jar, I dunno!” Lance exclaimed, waving his hand.

Keith let out a snort, snickering so hard he shook the headboard.

Lance watched him laugh and it was, quite honestly, the most beautiful thing he ever saw. He didn't even notice how he sounded, he just knew he wanted to make him laugh forever, just so he could see that life in his eyes.

Lance brushed his hand against Keith's to get his attention. Keith turned back to Lance, his face flushed.

“Hey cowboy, I wanted to ask you something.”

Keith gave him his full attention. “What's up?”

Navy met ocean blue, like the star studded sky meeting the tide.

Lance turned away sheepishly. “Well, I've been meaning to ask you for a while now,but I never found the right time, but that's not really important. What's important is I'm asking you now so…” he took a deep breath. “I was wondering if you’d’-”

“Keith! Lance!” Jaime called up the stairs. He came up, stopping in the doorway. “The party is starting and Gammaw said-”

Jaime looked at how they faced each other, and by the disappointed look Lance wore he must have interrupted The Moment™. Now he was kicking himself.

“-said to come get you.”

Lance sat up. “Thanks Jaime, we'll be down in a second.” Lance saw the apologetic look in his eyes and mouthed “it's okay”, which made him feel a little better. He left the doorway and went downstairs while Lance slid on his shoes.

Keith pulled at his sleeve. “What were you about to ask?”

“You know, it can wait. Let's go party.”

 

Turns out, partying with a bunch of kids was more fun than any college party Keith had been to. And he had been to exactly two.

First of all, they were always moving, and really easy to please.

“Keith, look! It's your favorite episode of Space Ranger Partners.” Xavier pointed to the TV, which was still playing reruns.

“What is that show? I don't think I've ever watched it,” said Lance.

“It's about these people manning robots in space. Some stupid thing I used to watch.” It was a kid's show. Something he should have grown out of watching.

“It's not stupid, it's your favorite! Look!”

They watched the scene unfolding on screen. It was just after a fight and the characters were helping each other on their feet.

The character in blue sat against something, clutching his stomach like he had been shot. The one in red came over to him, grabbing his hand but not really helping him, just holding him.

“Luke. You alright, buddy?”

“You really had my back there Kenneth. We really are good partners.”

The two shared (what people speculated) was a loving gaze, before cutting to commercial.

“I think they're in love.” Xavier whispered, like it was a secret just for the two of them.

“What?” That was not something Keith expected to hear from an eight year old. The internet, maybe. “What makes you say that?”

“Gammaw says people look at each other like that when they're in love. Anybody can love someone.”

That was Gammaw. Always telling her children the truth.

“Well, they might be, but if it doesn't happen in the show don't be upset. You can always keep that in your heart.”

Xavier nodded. “Ooooh, that's what we should play!” He ran off to get some toys from his bin.

“Is he gonna marry us?” asked Lance in a low voice.

“Just go along with whatever he says.” Keith wanted to say “I hope not”, but that might have hurt Lance's feelings.

Besides, he wasn't the worst person on the world to get fake married to.

X came back with a toy sword and a toy gun for them, and his purple glowing glove.

“Keith, you're red. Lance, you're blue. And I'm the fearless leader Antura of Lantea!”

“X, Antura doesn't have the hand. Tamo does.”

“But she doesn't have a weapon! And that's sexist!”

Again, Gammaw was giving the child the tea.

“Okay.”

“Where to, Antura?” asked Lance, holding up the pistol. He looked like he was ready to charge into battle.

“Over there!” he pointed over to the abandoned pile of toys. “That's the lava planet Zed 9. Our enemy has a base there.”

“Lead the way, Antura,” said Lance. They creeped around the couch, sneaking up to the toys. Keith held up his sword, ready to attack at a moment's notice. They continued to follow Xavier until he held up a hand to stop them.

“I hear something,” he whispered. He turned his head from side to side, glancing around. His eyes stopped on the potted plant in the corner of the room. “It's a Galeran! Quick Lance, get him!” he ordered, pointed at the plant.

Lance aimed his weapon at the plant and pressed the trigger. The toy glowed and emitted a series of pew pews.

“Enemy down! But they're sending in reinforcements!”

“We should get to higher ground.” Lance scooped the boy and slung him onto his back. “Let’s maneuver through this corridor and get back to the ship.”

Xavier cheered, and Lance wove his way around other furniture, carefully going through the doorway into the the dining room. He was so into the game that he didn’t even notice that Keith stopped playing and didn’t follow.

It hit him all at once, as he watched Lance playing and having fun with Xavier. He was going to graduate in another year, and move away, somewhere far to start a career, and what then? What would be the point? Visiting a place where kids came and went, and where in a few years he’d be thirty and the kids he watched play with dolls and toy cars would be with _real_ families? Just like the kids he grew up with, they would leave. What do you call a family that leaves and forgets?

He needed air. His chest was constricting and everything hurt, like bandages wrapped too tight around every limb, every organ.

The sword dropped to the floor with a clank, and Keith found himself rushing to get through the front door. He slammed the door open, tumbling out onto the porch. Air filled his trapped lungs, and they felt less like they were being squeezed. As stubborn as he was, the familiar prick of tears stung his eyes. The deepset dread was back, and nothing, _no one_ , could make it better. Not even Lance, who had been so sweet about coming here with him, deserved to see that pitiful display.

_Coming here was a mistake._

 

Lance took Xavier outside and set him on the ground. “I think we escaped, Antura.”

Xavier looked around with growing confusion. “We lost Keith!” He finally realized, breaking character.

Lance looked behind him, expecting to find Keith, but it was empty air. “Maybe he went to take a galactic potty break. I’ll go find him,” he assured him. He left Xavier with the other kids and the parents who decided to stick around and went inside. He went through the kitchen, spotting Gammaw patting down fried chicken she was preparing to put in a basket.

“Hi, ma’am, um-”

She quirked her eyebrow at his formalness. “Call me Mary Ann, or Gammaw, like the kids. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine Gammaw, I was just wondering if you’ve seen Keith?” he asked, leaning with one hand against the granite countertop.

She paused her patting with a dry paper towel to look up quizzically. Her nose scrunched as she tried to remember. “I think I saw him go outside. He seemed upset.”

_Keith… upset?_

“Why… would he be upset?” His voice was soft and full of concern, and it took Gammaw by surprise.

She tried her best to hide the guilty look she wore, and her eyes stayed fixated on the chicken. “Maybe you should talk to him,” she suggested.

Lance had never seen Keith upset before, and he wasn’t sure how exactly he would react to him trying to make him feel better. And if he had been crying…

Could Lance really handle that?

“Are you sure _you_ don’t want to? I could handle… whatever it is you’re doing.” He pointed to the chicken, looking confused.

Gammaw sighed and gave Lance proper attention. She set aside the paper towel and rubbed her hands together thoughtfully.

“Listen, Lance, I’m old, and I know that means I’m full of wisdom and should be able to comfort every person under this roof, but right now? I think Keith needs his _friend_. You offer a different kind of comfort Keith would be way more appreciative of. That boy is a son to me, and as much as I want to run out there, I would make it worse.” She gave him a knowing look. “I can see you really care for my boy, and he needs that.”

Lance swallowed. Did everyone in this house see how he really felt?

“O-okay. I’ll go.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

 

It wasn’t like Keith to cry. He hated the sticky feeling of tears.

Normally, he would express any negative emotion through art. He would sit and draw out his anger, his frustration, his sadness, until his hand cramped. Then he would crumple the drawings into balls and toss them out his window. He hated feeling that way. He loved letting it all go.

But god, he was so vulnerable.

It wasn’t his fault. He knew that it would happen eventually, but he didn't think...

He blinked, sending more tears down his reddening cheeks.

That was so selfish of him.

 

Lance tried to open the door as quietly as he could., but the squeaking hinges were inevitable. Keith didn’t seem to react to them, so Lance took that a good sign. He joined Keith on the steps, not saying a word, but just sitting there, looking out at the dirt road.

Keith turned away, but Lance didn’t budge.

“You know, after all the cartoons and movies I’ve seen, I’ve always wondered if tumbleweeds were real. And you know what? I’m pretty upset that I haven’t seen one.”

Lance still looked out at the horizon, respecting Keith and not looking at him until he was ready to talk. He thought he would stay quiet forever, but then he heard it. It was faint at first, but he was sure of it: Keith was laughing.

His snicker became loud enough for Lance to hear, and the sound warmed his heart. It was like his favorite music.

“You’re an idiot.”

_He speaks!_

“Can I look at you, please?” asked Lance. “I want to see that pretty smile.”

_Shutupshutupshutup._

Keith wiped away the tears that (somehow) found their way down his cheeks. Nothing could be done about his red, puffy eyes, but he still looked at Lance with a small smile. It was a sad one, but still.

Lance took in the sight of how upset Keith really had been, and every detail pulled at his heart.

“There, that wasn’t so hard.” Lance’s positivity was a bit contagious, and Keith’s smile grew a little. “Are you okay with telling me what’s wrong?”

Just like that, his smile settled into a fine, tense line, and he went silent. Lance wasn’t going to pressure him to answer, but he wanted some sort of ground before he tried physical comfort. So he sat beside him, prepared to wait.

He could wait forever, by his side.

Keith looked like he was ready to speak a couple times, but he stopped before saying anything. Lance could see his gears turning, trying to articulate some answer, even if it was just “no.”

“Do-” Lance turned his head at the sound of Keith finally speaking, but Keith stayed still. “-do you ever feel so selfish that you hate yourself?”

That wasn’t exactly what Lance was expecting to hear first, but he didn’t let that stop him from trying to comfort his friend. “Sometimes.”

Keith closed his eyes and sighed. “I found out Elle was adopted a month ago.”

_Oh._

“You mean the blonde one? Your favorite sister?”

“She’s not my sister.”

“But that’s what you called her-”

“Well, she’s not, okay Lance?” he snapped. “None of the kids here, they’re not my siblings. It’s a cruel joke.”

“But Jaime called you his brother and-”

“Jaime is going to go to a nice family and forget who I am! Same with Xavier! Same as the kids that I watched leave as I stayed.” He took a deep breath to calm down. “Lance, I’m thirteen years older than X. He has the chance to leave, and me? I’m just gonna come back and pretty soon there will be all new kids who won’t know who I am! Tell me, Lance, what kind of family is that?” Keith was on the verge of tears again. “I left so I wouldn’t feel attached, because all it does is make me feel like shit. You can’t call someone your brother or sister if they just end up forgetting you and finding a real family.”

“You say that like the woman that raised you, in there? Isn’t practically your mom? You say that like you don’t talk about this place with gushing fondness.” Lance didn’t understand how Keith could have such a warped view of this place. He was so loved here. “You say that they won’t remember you. You went off to college and miss what? Eight months of the year in Florida? But you didn’t forget them, so why should they forget you?”

Keith frowned. He knew Lance was right, and it made him feel worse.

“Keith, I'm not angry at you. No one is. You have every right to feel that way. You lost someone you really cared about. But pretending you don't love this place is not going to help you any more than sitting out here without a shoulder to cry on.” He took the plunge and moved closer, until their shoulders touched and Lance could wrap his arm around him. Keith didn't even stiffen.

“Can I tell you something about my family? Is that okay?”

Keith nodded, laying his head in the crook of his neck. It seemed like the best thing to do.

“So, I come from a kind of big family. My mom had my brother Tye when she was nineteen. He's a good nine years older than me. Growing up, I saw him do everything. He graduated, got married. I was an uncle at the same age as when my mom had my brother. And I always felt like.... I wasn't very attached to him, because he was always such an adult. The gap was so big that we had nothing to bond over. But he was still my brother and one day it just hit me that he could stop caring about me. He had his own family and didn't need to be around us anymore. He had to be a man. So, instead of hating myself for feeling so jealous, I siphoned that energy into being the best older brother for the twins. And I feel like you've done that too, but you also lost sight of it because yeah, of course you want them to stay around forever. But life's not like that. It gives and takes and expects you just roll with it. There's no time to be sad because _this_ is the thing you have to deal with now, _sorry_.”

Lance rubbed Keith's shoulder with his thumb.

“But the thing is, those kids, and the kids you said left while you were growing up? You've left an impact on them. They love you, and you don't believe it because it's not like… a traditional family. But in the end we chose our family, and those kids are going to grow up remembering Keith Kogane, the best brother they've ever had. Their red warrior, their cowboy. Their artist,” he squeezed his shoulder. “You're unforgettable.”

Keith was wrong.

Lance made everything better.

“I know those kids mean a lot to you, and it hurts me to see you think they don't feel the same way.”

Keith sat up straight. “Do you remember the night in the alley?”

That was quite the subject change.

Lance nodded.

“And you asked me if I was holding back?”

How could he forget?

“Yeah?”

“Well, the last time I fought someone I stabbed them in the leg.”

Lance grabbed his leg out of reflex.

“I surprised everyone by coming home a day earlier than planned, and school was still in session. So I surprised Elle and picked her up from school. We were walking home when these gross fucks start harassing her. She was seven and they were calling her nasty things!” he glared angrily. “They acted like I wasn't even there. Then they tried to touch her, and she kicked one of them in the junk. They tried to hit her and I blacked out and stabbed one in the leg.”

Keith saw his shocked face and tried to recover. “The point is, wanting her to stay wasn't for _me_ . It was so she'd be safe. I didn't want to her to adopted by some sickos. We both saw how bad the world could be in just a split second. People are horrible, Lance.” His mouth twisted. “At least here, Gammaw knows how to take care of them, but I still feel selfish. I made a plan  for the _minute_ I turned eighteen. Adopted or not, I was going to leave. I knew what I wanted, I knew that I wasn’t gonna be thrust into the world full of ignorance about what really happens. They’re just kids. None of them should feel that way.”

“Is there any way could talk to Elle?”

“Gammaw isn’t allowed to to disclose adoption information,” he told him. “Besides, she does extensive background checks. I’m just.... Afraid the world will hurt her.”

“You can’t protect people forever,” Lance said knowingly. “The twins are the same age as Xavier. You don’t think I’m an absolute wreck while I’m away, and they literally live a few cities away? I think about all the trouble those little turds can get into every single day. But they’re _my_ siblings! They’re tough, and my parents are the best in the world. Sometimes you just gotta trust that things will be okay.”

Keith grinned. “How is it that you seem to make everything better?”

Lance felt a blush creeping up his neck. “Y’know, it’s just my superpower.” He scratched the back of his neck bashfully.

“My local hero.”

That sentence alone could have turned Lance into a pile of steaming grits. But instead he found Keith’s arms around him, enveloping him in warmth. He felt himself melting into his touch, like chocolate chips in a baking cookie. The slight squeeze, as if Keith wanted them even closer, despite their legs keeping them apart, sent his heart rate skyrocketing like a firework. It was all Lance could do to not bury his face into Keith’s pale neck. He smelled like earth after rain, like the fresh wet soil and the grass. Lance felt something wet fall against his collar.

“Thank you.” His voice was small, barely heard. “For coming to my rescue.”

“Anything for you, cowboy.”

Keith broke the hug, sniffling.

“Do you need to me to give you a minute?” Lance asked him. Keith nodded. “I’ll come get you. Five minutes?” Keith nodded again. Lance gave him one last rub on his back, and left Keith on the steps to go inside.

 

Lance was not surprised to see Gammaw standing by the doorway. Though he wondered just how much she heard.

“Have you been standing there the whole time?”

She gave him a sly smile. “Just long enough, boy. You know, you could be one of those public speakers with the way you talk.”

“No ma’am, I think I’m okay.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “What did you hear?”

“I heard what Keith _needed_ to hear. Though I’m surprised you didn’t take that moment to tell him _everything_.”

Lance avoided eye contact. “That would have been selfish. There’s a better time.”

“My boy isn’t one to take hints well, Lance.”

_Don‘t I know it._

“I’ll get to that eventually.”

“I have faith. It’s rare to see someone who’s broken Keith out of his shell. You’re good for him. You have my blessing.”

That meant a lot more to him than she knew.

“Thanks Gammaw.”

“You’re welcome. Do you think you could help set up the food on the table? I need to go to my office for something.”

“Of course!” He followed her to the kitchen, but not before glancing back to the door.

He was glad Keith was okay.

 

“Keith?” Lance stepped onto the porch. “We’re about to sing Happy Birthday.”

He stood and dusted off his pants. “That was quick.”

“Come on,” he ushered Keith inside, grabbing his straw colored hat off the wicker chair. They made their way into the dining room, squeezing past a pair of parents. Standing off to the side, they were packed against the wall. Lance wove his arm around Keith’s waist to bring him closer and make more room. Keith didn’t mind the closeness.

In that moment, Lance was an anchor, and he wouldn’t dare let him drift.

Jaime spotted them from across the table, where he was standing with his friend Bart. He watched Lance hold Keith by his side, feeling slightly jealous. He glanced at Bart, who was getting his camera ready.

_If only._

Lance saw Jaime’s pout and wondered why he looked that way, until he saw his gaze travel over to Bart fiddling with his camera. So that was the guy. He was cute, in a lanky, weird way. How he could see past that mop of auburn hair was a mystery.

Amongst the commotion of the kids finding their places at the table, Lance tried to get his attention.

“Pssst, Jaime!”

Jaime perked up at the sound of his name and saw Lance grinning at him.

“That's the boy, huh? Make a move!” he said in Spanish. He gestured pointedly with his head at Bart, who wasn't paying the slightest attention to anything but his camera.

Jaime blushed and crossed his arms, shaking his head.

“Hey Beetle Boy, take a selfie with me, I wanna see if it works.” Bart slung his arm around Jaime's shoulders without a second thought. Jaime smiled at the camera and noticed that Bart didn't drop his arm after the picture. Lance looked on with a growing pride when Jaime was brave enough to wrap his arm around Bart right back.

Gammaw brought out the cake which caused even more commotion. She set in front of the birthday boy and pull out a lighter for the candles. After the final one was lit, Jaime started a rendition of “Happy Birthday”, which turned into the loudest version Lance had ever heard. Boy, did country people have lungs.

After that Keith started a rhythmic clap the everyone but Lance took part in.

“ _The stars at night, are big and bright,”_ he chanted.

 _“DEEP IN THE HEART OF TEXAS!”_  Everyone else cheered, scaring Lance shitless. How did they _all_ know that song? What kind of cult…?

Gammaw spotted the two of them being so close and smiled. Keith _never_ started the song. He must be showing off, she thought. All her instincts about Lance were right. Now if only Keith would drag his head out of the mud and wipe his eyes.

 

As fun as the party was, it was starting to get late and they had to get going if they were gonna make it back to West Palm at a decent time.

Not that they weren't reluctant to leave.

They sat on the porch, enjoying some time to themselves. Since Xavier opened his gifts, all he wanted to do was play, play, play. And it wasn't Xavier’s fault Keith had the stamina of a kid on a college diet of ramen noodles. Lance, however, could keep it up all day, but snuck away at first chance he got. So there they were, sitting on the steps, splitting a plate of food, hiding from the kids.

“You know, everyone says you can't beat southern fried food.” Lance nawed on the chicken leg, trying to get every last piece of moist white meat.

“Well, it looks to me like you can't beat a city slicker’s appetite.” Keith noted.

“City slicker? Really? Sometimes I feel like you're making things up.”

“Keep it up, and I'll cancel your birth certificate!” he teased.

Lance shook his head. “What does that even _mean_?”

“Don't worry ‘bout it.”

The moment was cut by a buzzing noise in Lance's pocket.

“I bet that's Hunk.” Lance pulled out his phone to read the messages. “Yep. He keeps asking if I'm okay and if Leatherface got me.”

Keith peered over his shoulder to see. “Tell him we've got you hog tied in our tool shed.”

“Are you kidding? He'd catch the first flight here. I'm just gonna send him a picture of us so he leaves me alone. Is that okay?”

“Sure, go for it.” Keith was definitely becoming more comfortable with physical contact and taking a picture didn't really bother him as much as it would have.

Lance held the phone above them, trying to get a good angle. Keith flicked his hat so it wasn't covering his face.

“Say… Sandy Cheeks!”

“Sandy Cheeks!” Keith echoed, shoving him gently after the picture was taken. Lance showed it to him.

“Not bad. I think the best part is that hat covering up your mullet.”

“Oh, you horse’s ass!” Keith took care to cover his blushing face with his hat. “Did it send?”

“Yeah, he's responding.”

 

 **Hunk-a-Burnin’:** _Cute. You guys look like Brokeback Mountain._

 

“What did he say?”

Lance locked his screen. “He said he's glad I'm alive. And he said hi.”

Keith smiled. “Tell him I said hi.”

The door creaked open behind them, and they both turned to see Gammaw in the doorway.

“Hey Gammaw. Everything okay?” Keith asked.

“Everything's fine. Are you two planning on leaving?”

“Pretty soon, yeah.”

“Are you sure you two can't stay? I’m sure Keith's room has enough space for the both of you.”

Lance swallowed, but Keith didn't catch on. “No, we have to be back in Florida tomorrow so we can study. But we appreciate it.”

 _Yeah Gammaw, we sure do_ , Lance thought with burning sarcasm.

“Well, Lance, do you mind if I pry Keith from you? I need his help in my office.” Her look was suggestive, as if Lance didn't really didn't have a choice but to let him go.

“Not a problem.” He hoped whatever “help” was, it was a _good_ thing.

 

Keith followed her upstairs to her office, which looked like the office of the Devil himself. Red walls, maroon carpet. A bull skull hung on the wall behind her giant oak desk. It was an intimidating place. Her phone light blinked, indicating a call on hold.

She sat in her chair and handed him the phone. “It's for you.”

Keith took the phone hesitantly, and she pressed the button.

“Hello?”

“Keith? It's me!” A high, feminine voice answered.

“Elle?” He looked at Gammaw in shock, but she just nodded, waving him off.

“How are you, Princess?” he asked quietly.

“I'm great! Oh my gosh Keith you would love my dads, they're artists like you!”

The familiar feeling of tears welling up returned. “Dads?” He heard his own voice crack, but he was too happy to be embarrassed.

“Yeah! Dave is a sculptor, and Louis is painter that works at the museum. We live in Houston, and Keith it's _so pretty_.”

“Go on, tell me more.”

So Keith sat and listened to his little sister tell him everything: school, her art class, how her dads were sort of famous. Mostly how she loved her home but “missed everybody”.

“Maybe I can come visit for Christmas!” she said. “I asked my dads and they said as long as my grades are good they'd take me but,” she lowered her voice. “Between you and me, I think they'd take me anyway.”

He laughed. She could always get away with everything.

“That sounds amazing, Elle. I'm really glad you're happy.” He sniffed, wiping a stray tear.

“You'll be happy too, Keef.” She told him, using her old nickname for him from when she was younger. “I can feel it. And you know I'm good at these things.”

She was never wrong.

“I know, Princess. But hey, I have to get going. Lance and I have to drive back to Florida.”

“Who’s Lance?” she asked.

Keith realized that he didn't mention him once. That was odd.

“He's a wonderful guy. You'd like him,” he told her.

“See, I miss all the good stuff!” she huffed.

“I'm sure you'll meet him.” _I really want you to._ “But I have to go. Love you, Princess.”

“Love you too, Keef.”

Keith waited for the dial tone before handing the phone back to Gammaw.

“You ain't have to do that.”

She shook her head at him. “Well, I wanted to. She's your sister from different blood. And it didn't help that I ripped the bandage without warning.”

He reached across the desk to give her a big hug. “Thank you… Ma.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. He never called her Ma.

It was sweet.

She rubbed his back. “You're welcome, you raggamuffin.” She broke the hug and stood. “Now, we should head downstairs and send you on your way. But you gotta say bye to everyone. No kid of mine is gonna be rude.”

“Of course not,” he smirked. “I’m not an animal.”

 

After about a thousand hugs, a million goodbyes, and a plate of food old southern leftovers, Keith and Lance were finally free to head to the car. A few of the kids and Gammaw stood on the porch to wave goodbye, while they were packing up and double checking everything. Before they could hop in, Jaime came running from the backyard and halted right on Lance's side of the car.

“Lance! He kissed me!” he shouted in Spanish, pumping his fist in victory

“Whoa, did this just happen?” He quirked an eyebrow at him in disbelief.

“Yeah, we were behind the garage looking at beetles and he just… pulled me in! It was so nice,” he sighed.

“Good for you! See, you had nothing to worry about.”

“I _know._ Hey Lance,” he nudged him in the ribs and pointed at Keith, who was getting ready to get in the car. “Make your move.”

Lance shoved him playfully. “Soon, Beetle boy.”

Jaime gave him one last hug before he got in the car and ran back to join his siblings on the porch.

Keith started up Red, waving still as he reversed and made a U turn, driving down the dirt road. Lance turned to see Keith's family still waving.

“Your family is wonderful.”

Keith's grin stretched from ear to ear.

“Yeah, they are.”

 

Before long they blew through the first eight hours, stopping at a gas station, (not the same one the came through, thank god), and refilled their tank. Lance took on the position of driver for the rest of the trip, this time with no problem. Keith of course was knocked out in the passenger seat. He would never admit it to Lance but those kids were exhausting, and he was grateful to get a few hours of well deserved sleep.

Lance saw the sun rising, the light casting such a warm glow in the car. He flipped down his visor, and moved to get Keith’s, but he was already stirring in his seat.

“Sorry, the sun is out,” Lance explained, apologizing on behalf of the asshole star.

“Mhmmm. It's okay,” he yawned. “I'm so hungry. Where are we at?”

Lance glanced at the GPS. “About four hours away from home. We still have some snacks.”

“I'm not touching those Devil cakes.” Keith yawned again, covering his mouth. “I'm in the mood for… waffles.”

Lance remembered seeing a sign for a Denny’s for the next exit. “There's a Denny's coming up. You wanna stop there?”

Keith nodded, yawning for a third time. He needed caffeine like a bull needed grass.

Lance pulled onto the exit and ignored the GPS telling him to turn around as he pulled into the Denny's parking lot.

“Yes!” Keith was more than happy to see the red and yellow sign. “God I need coffee.”

Lance chuckled. “Okay cowboy, let's go.”

Lance turned off the car and waited for Keith to shut his door before locking it behind him.

“Let's go get those waffles.”

 

A few couple cups of coffee later and Keith was almost normal. It wasn't his normal energy drink deathshot but it was enough to keep him awake until he could crash at his dorm.

Lance sipped his chocolate milk thoughtfully, glancing over the menu. He was thinking of getting the blueberry pancakes, but he had never been to a Denny's, so he wanted Keith's opinion.

“Keith, should I get the blueberry or maple butter pancakes?”

Keith had already settled on his Belgian waffle with a side of bacon, and was quick to offer his opinion. “Blueberry. Definitely.”

“Cool. Thanks Keith.”

“You're welcome.” Keith went back to fake reading his menu. He was stuck on something that he had been wanting to ask all trip, but he really didn't know how to bring it up without sounding… insensitive.

Keith took a quick sip of coffee for nerve. “Hey Lance?”

“What's up?” Lance set down his menu to give Keith his undivided attention

“So, I've been meaning to ask you this since the trip started, but I didn't really know how…”

_Is he gonna beat me to it? Is this my Jaime moment?_

“Go ahead,” he said calmly, despite his head being filled with panicking Spongebob voices.

“So, is your name is really Leandro? Because I heard your mom call you that and I wasn't sure if it was a nickname or not.” Keith scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

Lance let out an internal sigh of relief.

“Leandro is the name that I was born with, yeah.”

“It's so beautiful. But why do you go by Lance?”

There was that word again.

“When I was in grade school the kids and some teachers had problems with it and my mom said it was ‘too pretty to be butchered’, so we came up with something more American. I like it, it makes me sound cool.” Lance sipped his milk. “Besides, sometimes it feels like they don't want us to be too Latino, you know?”

Keith nodded.

“Sometimes it's easier to be Lance McClain, the wannabe white boy, than Leandro Ramirez-McClain, the son of Cuban immigrants.”

That broke Keith's heart, to see someone so denied of himself and who he was.

“You know, I think this guy called Leandro is so much cooler than this Lance guy. Who even is he? Never heard of him.”

Lance smiled, feeling something stirring in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to reach across the table and hold Keith's hand, and tell him everything he's ever felt around him.

He inched his hand closer to where Keith's rested near the napkin dispenser, nearly close enough to run his thumb gently across his knuckles.

But then the waitress walked over, and he snatched his hand back.

How sad it was to be denied, indeed.

After that amazing breakfast, Lance took the wheel and drove them the rest of the way home. Keith was sufficiently awake enough to give Shiro a call to let him know that they were getting close and to “clear out the dorm” if need be. But really as the drive went on, Keith flashed back to the party, and thought about how differently it would have went if Lance hadn't been there. He was thankful, that was for sure, but there was something else. Something more… what he would dare call, intimate.

Maybe Shiro was right.

But there was no way he was going to tell him that.

 

Keith offered to drop him off at his apartment, but Lance declined, saying he needed the jog to “burn off those pancakes”, so the parking garage was their departing point. Both felt very reluctant to leave, but both of them had their own set of things to do, since they had about a couple weeks of studying before finals, and all they wanted was a full eight hours of sleep before tackling any of their material.

So Lance waved goodbye, jogging out of the parking garage.

And Keith sat in his car, wondering just how long Shiro had been right.

 

Finals came quick, like an inappropriate metaphor. Keith last final was with Professor Coran, and afterwards he was to stay and pick up his artwork from the exhibition, which sat in a box in Coran’s desk.

Coran stood in front of the class like usual,but instead of everyone having their drawing materials, there was a small packet turned over on the blank side in front of each person, and they all had one pencil. He pulled a stopwatch from his tweed jacket and held it in the air.

“You all have one hour to complete this final. You can… _begin_.”

Keith flipped over his test and scanned the questions.

 

  1. **How would you describe the level of education you received?**
  2. **If a tree falls in the forest, and no one is around to hear it, how would you draw the other trees mourning their lost brethren?**



 

The questions went on, some of them asking for small sketches, some asking for personal opinions. It was far by the easiest final he'd ever taken, and he blew threw it in half the time given. He walked up to the front and handed him his final.

“Ah, Mr. Progain. I see you've finished early,” he observed, speaking quietly.

“It's Kogane, sir.”

“That's what I said.” Coran handed him the box full of the framed drawings. “Here you go, young man. I hope you've enjoyed my class.”

“It was an awesome class, Professor,” he told him honestly. It led him to have the most interesting semester ever, so he really had nothing bad to say.

“Hmm. Well, enjoy your winter break. And tell your muse that I hope he's doing well.”

Keith didn't even protest at Coran calling Lance his muse. “I sure will Professor. Thank you.”

Coran smiled. “Get going! You have a break to enjoy!”

 

Keith called Lance after he stopped by his dorm to meet him at Aroma one last time before he left for Miami to be with his family. Since Hunk was dropping him off on the way to the airport, he was a bit pressed for time, but that didn't stop Lance from going in to see him.

Keith sat at their usual spot, bouncing his leg against the wooden frame he was trying to hide but couldn't.

Lance barged in, going right to their spot. He was wearing same olive green hoodie Keith remembered from the first time he spotted him from the pier. How fitting.

“Hey, I'm sorry I can't stay long, I told Hunk I was getting something quick so he wouldn't get mad,” he babbled, sitting next to him.

“I'll be quick, I promise. I just wanted to give this to you.” Keith slid the framed drawing from the side of the armchair and handed it over to Lance, who took it with wide eyes.

It was the boardwalk drawing.

The first one Lance ever saw.

Lance glanced from Keith to the drawing and back to Keith, eyebrows furrowed. “Keith, I can't take this.”

“Why not? I wrapped it all nice.” Keith was particularly proud of the choice of blue bow that he stuck in the top left corner.

“It's _your_ art, I can't take it from you.”

“But you're not _taking_ it, it's a gift. That wouldn't exist if I hadn't met you so… it's only fitting that I give it to the person that inspired me. Leandro Ramirez-McClain, the boy of the sun.” Keith hoped he wasn't being too cheesy but he felt like Lance deserved every bit of that drawing. Now for the hard part.

“And listen, I know you said the dancing thing was just a habit and something dumb but when you told me about your name I thought that the whole dancing thing was something you were also denying because other people weren't comfortable with it and I just wanted to say that you shouldn't let other people tell you you can't, Leandro. 'Cause... I dunno. I have a feeling it makes you happier than you say, and you should... let yourself have it."

Lance stared at the drawing, soaking in Keith's words.

“Or I could be dead wrong. Maybe telling you that was a bad idea and I'm just babbling on and I ain't got a clue what I'm saying.” Keith watched Lance nervously, thinking maybe he said the wrong thing.

A deep sigh escaped him. “It's a little more than that, Keith. I want to tell you but… not yet.” Lance rested the frame on his knees and grabbed one of Keith's hands. “I love that you gave this to me. It means a lot.”

Keith squeezed his hand. “You're welcome… Space cowboy.”

Lance felt a buzzing in his pocket and he didn't even have to check to know that it was Hunk.

“I have to go, I'm sorry.” Lance stood, cradling the frame in the crook of his elbow. “I definitely owe you a gift. But um… Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Leandro.”

 

The drive was a lot less fun by himself, but Keith made it in one piece. So far the only thing he had done was unpack his laptop and browse Netlfix for something to watch. He ended up just re-watching _Space Ranger Partners_ , catching up on the fifth season (finally). So far he had yet to hear anything about season six, but he heard somewhere that it was supposed to be the “most important season yet”, according to their Twitter. He just wanted to see development for Chunk. Poor guy was all comedic relief and no action lately.

After that, Keith spent his time browsing Amazon for some new brushes. He was taking a painting class next semester and really needed new tools. He was about to add one of the sets to his Wishlist when a Skype request window popped up in the upper right hand corner of his screen.

 

**Lance McClain wants to be your friend.**

 

_How did he get my Skype?_

Keith peered at the icon. It sure _looked_ like Lance.

He dragged the mouse over the accept button and hovered over it cautiously.

_The worst thing that could happen would be I’d have to block some stranger, so why not?_

Keith clicked accept, and not a moment sooner was he getting called.

He hit the video chat button and saw himself in the corner of his screen, but Lance's was still dark.

“Hello? Lance?”

“Jojo, get down! You’re blocking my screen with your butt!” he heard Lance shout. The dark turned to very blue as Jojo moved his backside away from the screen. He watch the kid step down, revealing a slightly agitated Lance.

That wasn’t a bad look on him.

Lance sighed and ran a quick hand through his hair. “Hi.”

“Hi. How’d you get my Skype?”

Jumping right to the point. Good job.

“My phone does this weird thing where you can find people based on their contact info and it suggested I add you. Which is funny, because I was just thinking about calling you, so…” His eyes gleamed. “ _Surprise._ ”

Keith couldn’t help but laugh at the giant dork on his screen. “So how’s home?”

“Loud. And boring. That’s why I called you.” As he said that, a little girl slid quietly into his lap, the top of her curly pigtailed head resting just below Lance’s chin. Her big brown eyes peered at the screen, staring right at Keith’s face.

“Lance, who’s that?” She pointed at the screen and poked it until he grabbed her tiny hand.

“That’s my friend Keith. Keith, this is my sister Isabelle. Say hi, Izzy!”

“Hi Keith!” She waved at him enthusiastically.

Keith waved back, chuckling. _She reminds me of Elle._

“Okay Lance I’m gonna go so you can talk to your friend.” She kissed him on  the chin. “Bye!” She slid out of his lap and went off running to find her brother.

“See?” Lance gestured to his computer with a flippant wave of his hand.

“I didn’t doubt you.”

There wasn’t even a second of peace before Alexi peered her head around the corner.

“I heard friend and I’m intrigued,” she announced, walking up right behind Lance.

That must be Lance’s older sister, Keith thought. Her blonde, (obviously dyed, judging by her roots), curly hair was piled high on her head in a faux hawk look. She was a little lighter, like her mom, but the resemblance was uncanny.

She squinted at the screen. “Huh, well look at you! I wish boys looked like that when _I_  was in school!”

_Is she calling me cute?_

“So you’re Lance’s friend, huh? The artist?” she asked.

“That’s me. I’m Keith. You must be Alexi. How are those whales?” he asked, earning him a smile.

Alexi nudged her brother in the arm. “ _¿El es tu novio?”_

“ _Vete, plaga_.”

“ _¿Es una manera de hablar con tu hermana?_ ” She rolled her eyes and looked back at Keith. “So rude! I’m just asking about your friend.”

Lance crossed his arms childishly.

As if on cue, another voice came from the hallway. “ _Oí novio, ¿qué está pasando?"_

Tye rounded the corner and came up behind Lance on the other side. “Well hi there.”

There was no doubt that the man that came into view was Lance’s brother. His hair, although darker, was straight like Lance’s and came to his shoulders, and he had piercing blue eyes under bushy brows.

Lance slunk further in his seat. “Tye, this is Keith.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Tye grinned. “He’s so friendly. _¿Por qué no lo trajiste aquí?_ ” he asked his brother quietly.

“ _Como si fuera a traer a alguien para que te conociera,_ " he muttered

Squeezing in closer, Tye poked his brother in the cheek. “You know, he never shuts up about you. It’s always Keith this, Keith that.” Lance slapped his hand away and Tye laughed.

Keith fought the urge to turn completely tomato red. “I didn’t think you talked about me that much, Leandro,” he teased, trying to play cool when in reality his face was burning.

Tye’s eyes widened and the noise Alexi made was positively inhuman as Lance just slid further in his chair to hide his maroon face.

" _¿Él conoce tu nombre de GOBIERNO? Eso es todo, debo planear esta boda,_ " she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air.

“ _¡Cállate!_ ” His weak attempt to silence them did nothing, and Keith was left to watch them in total loss.

“Wow, _las cosas son muy serias_ ,” Tye noted.

“ _¡No es mi novio, crustáceo!_ ”

“ _Está bien, no tienes que ser tan malo_ ,” Alexi scolded him. “Keith, we all of a sudden have to help Mama in the kitchen. It was nice to meet you!”

“Yeah, we’ll leave you two _pájaros del amor_ alone.” Tye winked and Lance wanted to leap out of his chair to strangle him. Keith laughed, even though he had no idea what that meant.

The two siblings left, finally giving Lance peace and quiet.

“You know, maybe next time you should sit in your room, like me,” Keith suggested.

“Shut your corn fed _mouth._ ”

Keith giggled. “Someone is doing their country slang research.”

Lance let himself smile. How could he be angry at a face like that?

“Why are you all holed up in your room?”

“I wanted to catch up on some shows. The other kids are decorating the Christmas tree.”

“What, Mr. Artist is too good for the Christmas tree?” he asked.

Keith scoffed. “I’m usually the one who puts on the star on the tree. Which,” he glanced at his clock. “Should be soon. What time is over there? It’s already dark here.”

“It’s seven, and we’re actually about to have dinner. So I should probably get going,” Lance told him.

“Okay. Enjoy your dinner.”

“I will. Night, Keith.”

“Good night, Lance.”

 

Keith closed his laptop and set it aside, still smiling. Gently pulling back his curtains, he looked at the night sky. The moon illuminated the farm in an ethereal glow. The tree in the backyard dripped with light and its shadow stretched over the garage.

"Hey... Mom and Dad?" he spoke to the sky, something he hadn't done in almost three years. "Where ever you two are? I know I only talk when I'm not feeling like myself but, um, I wanted to thank you. For letting me find him."  
The stars blinked silently, but for Keith, it was enough.

 

The picture on the wall above his bed was something he had been wanting to take down forever, and now he finally had something to replace it with.

A picture of a young Lance dressed in a leotard, holding the practice bar in a studio, smiling with his eyes closed hung on the wall, framed in black. He ran a finger over the frame, remembering the moment fondly. It was the day of his first, and last recital.

How time flew.

He gently removed the picture from the nail on the wall, setting it on the desk across from his bed. He grabbed the drawing he had resting against the side of his blue bed, carefully removing the stick on bow from the frame, and hung it on his wall, adjusting for straightness.

His mom stood in the doorway. “I’ll never understand why you quit.”

Lance nearly jumped out of his skin. “Mama! I could have been masturbating or something!” he spun to face her. “ _Please_ knock.”

“Leandro, I appreciate your honesty, but please don't be gross,” she pointed to the black frame on his desk. “What are you doing with that other picture?”

“Burying it somewhere. I don't know why you made me keep it.”

“Because you look so happy,” she said, stepping closer until she was at her son's side. Her eyes found their way to the new picture on the wall. “That boy, what was his name?”

“Keith?” _That boy, really?_

“Yes, him. He drew this picture of you?”

“He did.”

She watched her son smile. “So what's the deal with him?”

“He's too good for words, Mama,” he sighed, plopping on his bed.

Sophia Ramirez-McClain never saw her son so… enchanted.

“Do you want to date him?” she asked him, sitting by his side.

“Of course.”

“Hmmm. Do you think he likes you?”

Lance's smile slipped into a frown. “I'm not sure if he has the time.”

“Well he better! I've never see you so infatuated!” she told him.

“I know, it's embarrassing.” He rubbed the back of neck, face heating up.

“You know what's really embarrassing? You can be completely honest about some boy, but you still won't tell me the reason you quit dancing.”

He should have seen that coming, honestly.

“I told you, I just stopped liking it.”

“That is a dirty lie, Leandro. I thought a raised you better.”

Lance got quiet and Sophia took his hand, squeezing gently.

“I'm not going to be mad at you for telling me the truth. It's just something that's been bugging me for eleven years. You never liked to quit.”

“I heard you tell Alexi what happened to you at the Flamingo.”

She moved her skirt to cover her ankle. “How did you-”

“I was eavesdropping. I felt like you told her all the cool stories, so I went to listen.”

“I was using that story to warn her about boys and how violent they could be! That was not meant for the ears of a ten year old.”

“Well, I still heard it,” he said softly. “Mama it wasn't fair! That was your dream!”

“I know, sweetheart, but that didn't mean that I ever wanted you to stop.”

“But didn't it make you sad? To see me do the one thing you couldn't? You wanted to move here for that. And instead you moved here for us.”

“Because I love you kids, and your father, and I know you could have so many opportunities here. I wanted you all to become whatever you wanted, because it made _you_ happy.” She found herself looking at the picture with a forlorn gaze. “I never wanted you to quit.”

“Mama, it's okay,” he patted her hand reassuringly. “I don't even miss it.”

That wasn't really the truth.

But it was better off that she didn't know.

“I think having an astronaut son is so much cooler, don't you?” He slung an arm around her, hugging her close.

She laughed. “You know, you were always the easiest of your siblings. You saw space and went for it. I'm so proud of you.”

"Thanks Mama.”

He lowered his arm to let her go, and she got up from the bed to make her way to the door.

“You should get some sleep. We have a lot to do this week.”

Lance rolled into his bed. “Will do.”

“Don't forget your prayers,” she told him, closing the door behind her.

Lance groaned and rolled out of bed. He knelt beside his bed and clasped his hand together. He closed his eyes and prepared to pray.

“Hey Jesus. It's me, Lance,” he started off. He liked to think these conversations could be casual, like talking to one of his buds. It was the only way he could really pray.

“So… this semester has been really crazy, huh? I guess I have you to thank, right?” He stopped, so he could ‘answer’. “So, yeah, Keith… wow, your dad did a good job on him,” he paused again, trying to find the right words. “Thank you for letting him find me. I guess you know I'm not lucky enough to fall into the arms of someone so wonderful, so thank you Jesus for letting him be clumsy enough to fall into mine. I've never been so thankful to meet someone, and I hope you can give me the strength to tell him… several truths I've been avoiding. Thanks for allowing me to live and breathe with good health, as well. In God's name, amen.”

Lance opened his eyes, feeling a sense of calm. He rolled back into bed, shutting off the lamp on his nightstand.

 

He dreamt that night of dancing among the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to thank the tumblr user lancemccute and whoever sent that anon about Lance's name being Leandro. It really stuck with me and I hope I did the idea justice. (As a Latina with a Latinx last name and the first name Paris, I get it.)
> 
> Please leave me as many comments as you want! If you have any advice or criticism, you can comment or even message me on tumblr at mr-mustache-penis.tumblr.com
> 
> "Este es el increíble artista amigo de quien te hablé. Por favor no me avergüences." -This is my amazing artist friend I told you about. Please don't embarrass me.  
> "Jolero."- Fuck him up  
> ¿El es tu novio?”- Is he a boyfriend?  
> "Vete, plaga."- Go away you pest  
> “¿Es una manera de hablar con tu hermana?”- Is that any way to talk to your sister?  
> “Oí novio, ¿qué está pasando?”- I heard boyfriend, what's going on?  
> "¿Por qué no lo trajiste aquí?” - Why didn't you bring him?  
> "Como si fuera a traer a alguien para que te conociera," -Like i'd bring anyone to meet you assholes  
> ¿Él conoce tu nombre de GOBIERNO? Eso es todo, debo planear esta boda,"- He knows your GOVERNMENT name? That's it, I gotta plan this wedding.  
> “¡Cállate!”- Shut up  
> “Wow, las cosas son muy serias,”- Wow, things are pretty serious.  
> “¡No es mi novio, crustáceo!”- He's not my boyfriend, you crustacean!  
> “Está bien, no tienes que ser tan malo,” -Okay okay, you don't have to be so mean.  
> Pájaros del amor -love birds


	4. Let Your Clarity Define You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Family isn't always blood. It's the people in your life who want you in theirs; the ones who accept you for who for you are. The ones that would do anything to see you smile and who love you no matter what." -Some generic family quote I found on Google Images

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after being like 2 weeks late, it's finally here!!!! I'm so excited, things are really starting to heat up. Now that I'm out of my abusive household situation (long story), I'm coming back in full swing. I'm glad I could finally get this out!
> 
> Quick thing: there is a mention of weed that I honestly used for comedic effect but if you want to skip it the section starts at "Weed and hair dye" and pretty much ends at "Keith stared at her."

Christmas Eve.

The one time of the year where Keith could feel like he could be completely at ease.

Gammaw was working on making tea for the two of them, and hot cocoa for the little ones, so Keith sat with the kids in the living room to watch Christmas specials on TV. Jaime wasn't paying much attention; his eyes kept traveling to his phone (an early gift), looking for messages from Bart. He had confided in Keith a few days after he arrived that he and Bart were dating, which was a surprise, but nonetheless, he was proud of his little brother for being honest with himself and the family.

Something that Keith had been having trouble with recently.

It wasn't that he didn't _have_ feelings. He just wasn't sure how to express them.

This was new. Very, very new.

Baby Grinch popped up on screen, and Jaime nudged Keith, pulling him from his thoughts. “Hey look! It's you, Keith!”

Keith's laugh was a mix between a groan and an actual laugh. “Oh yeah, okay, clayface!”

“Hey!” Jaime shoved his shoulder roughly. “That was _one time_ , you _pendejo_!”

“Jerk.”

“You look like Mothman’s vampire cousin.”

“Excuse you, Mothman doesn't have relatives!” Keith grabbed a pillow from behind him and whacked Jaime with it, sending him flying back against the couch.

“Hey!” Gammaw scolded from the dining room. “No roughhousing boys! Keith, come here a second.”

“ _Busted_.”

Keith gave his brother the finger and got up to walk into the dining room. He poked his head into the doorway to see Gammaw sitting at the table with two steaming mugs of tea. “Yes Gammaw?

“Don't look at me like a worm in the dirt! Come and sit down, I wanted to talk,” she said, turning out the chair next to her.

Now, when Gammaw said “talk”, it never really meant anything good. Usually it meant a lecture, so Keith took a deep breath and prepared himself for the worst.

He sat beside her and took the mug in his hands. “What's up Gammaw?” he asked, taking a careful sip of tea.

“I just wanted to talk to you.” She blew on her own cup. “So, was that Lance boy you brought to Xavier's birthday party more than just a friend?”

Keith spit out his tea right back into his mug, and the warm liquid dribbled down his chin. _Where did_ that _come from?_

“What, ah-” he quickly wiped the tea from his chin with his shirt. “-what ever do you mean, Gammaw?”

A sly smirk stretched her thin lips, and she shook her head. “I wasn't born yesterday, Keith Michael Kogane. I'm _asking_ if y'all are to- _geth_ -er.”

“What are you- Gammaw, why would you _ask_ that?” His voice hitched an octave, betraying his embarrassment.

“I'm fixin’ to be stern with you, I really am.” She stirred her tea absentmindedly. “You think in the twenty-one years I've raised you I haven't been paying attention?”

 _Is she getting at what I think she's getting at?_ he thought, a flushing steadily rising to his cheeks.

“You don't like girls.”

The urge to run in that moment was _very_ high.

“Well, I never said I did, now did I?” he couldn't help but snap back. _Curse my mouth._

“Aha!”

He was startled by her sudden shout. “Gammaw, I-”

She shushed him with a bony finger. “Son, you don't have to explain yourself to me. I'm just glad you're being honest.”

It wasn't like Keith really _lied_ . It was never really brought up in conversation. Not in Texas, anyway. From the time they met, Shiro sort of figured it out, and he would always ask when Keith would find himself a guy and Keith would just naturally brush it off. Dating wasn't something that he really cared about. Besides, it was a little more that just _liking guys_.

“Yes, Gammaw, I like guys, but-” he held up a finger of his own, since she was known to interrupt. “I haven't known Lance very long. We only met a few months ago.” _By complete chance._

Her eyes narrowed. “But you trusted him enough to bring him here for Xavier’s party. Are you saying I let a complete _stranger_ into my home and let him play with my children?”

“No, Gammaw. But-”

“So he's not a stranger?”

“Yes. But Gammaw I-”

“Quit it with your buts! This isn't a donkey farm. I see no asses around here but you.” Another blunt saying from the Mary Ann Xiong collection of wit. “You just don't want to admit you've gotten close to someone because you're stubborn. You remind me of my ex husband.”

Keith was tired of all this griping. “Okay, yeah. Lance is a real nice guy. He's sweet, and talented, and so smart.” A warm feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. Was that.. what butterflies felt like?

“And he has excellent family skills,” she said, not being subtle at all. “He played with the youngins’ with no problem.”

“He has little siblings at home.”

“See? You know something about him! I bet you know a lot more, too.”

Keith sighed. “Gammaw, that doesn't necessarily _mean_ something.”

She stared at him. “Information is the foundation of all relationships. Friendships, partnerships, marriage, what have you. You learn things about each other through communication, and that starts the establishment of trust. I _know_ you talk to him everyday. You light up like a Christmas tree whenever you look at your phone.” He gave her a dubious look but she pressed forward. “I know I'm old, but I'm not quite blind yet. I can count on my two cents that he knows more about you than you realize.”

“ _Friends_ are supposed to know things about each other,” he tried to argue, and she smiled.

“Now he's a friend. We've upgraded.”

“I never said he wasn't.”

“Yes, but before you acted like I was supposed to believe he was practically a stranger.”

Keith leaned back into his chair. There was no winning with this woman.

“Okay, so I know his favorite color. His sister, she works with whales. He loves his family and he wants to search the skies. His eyes are like the ocean and I want to swim in them. He's beautiful and it's like I'm falling all at once and it's like I jumped off a building without realizing I'd actually hit the bottom." Keith managed to finally get out. Gammaw's eyes widened at his words. Keith was waxing poetic. He never waxed anything in his life.

“Look at you! My god!” she exclaimed gleefully.

“Gammaw it's different. I'm gay but I'm not… I don't…” How could he say this tactfully? “I don't like him for how he could… bust my gasket.”

There was a spark in her eyes, like a lighter trying to work in the rain. She knew exactly what he meant.

“Son, lemme tell you a story about a girl named Mary Ann, who felt a little odd as a teenager. Now, she wasn't no lesbian, but she felt different from the other kids. While everyone was doing hanky panky and disobeying their parents, she was sat at home, minding her Ps and Qs. But when she was seventeen she started noticing personalities. She didn't really care what the boy had in the toolbox, ('cause that didn't do anything for her), but what she felt in here when she was around him.” She pointed to her heart. “So when she met a certain Clay Thorton, she felt her heart go every which way. And that caused a stir, because of his skin color and the way she looked. It was a different time. People were cruel. But they made it work. He seemed to understand that she didn't want what the other girls did, so they never really did anything she didn't want to and they lived happily. Not to say she didn't try once, but that was to make little old Mallorie. She really wanted a child and she knew it had to happen the natural way, God willing and the creek didn't rise. But after she was pregnant that's all Clay wanted. Suddenly her heart only plummeted. Eventually the two agreed that they couldn't give each other exactly what they wanted and split. Clay remarried and Mary Ann, well…” she paused, and placed a hand on Keith's. “She got all the children she ever wanted. What I'm trying to say, Keith, is that Lance, in this day and age, understands… whatever the word is for it. And he probably isn't at all like Clay. If you feel that strongly you should just… go for it. We're the same, in that way. I always thought so.”

Keith laughed. “Oh really?”

“I always thought you were a different type of child,” she said.

“Because I was a shut in?” he teased her.

“You were _shy_ . I never pressured you to have friends. And after you rejected Mallorie, I knew I wasn't gonna being seeing any girls hanging off of you like moss. And Mallorie, she's a pretty girl, if I do say so myself.” She batted her eyelashes, and Keith smirked. “Oh, and bless her heart, she was throwing herself at you. Not calling my daughter a whore, or anything.” Gammaw wasn't exactly the most _tactful_ person. “But she showed you all this affection. Kinda gross now that I think about it, because you're like her brother. But you ignored it and I felt like your tumbleweed spun in a different direction. Not an easy assumption to make. Of course I could tell if _my_ daughter was eating pussy,” she chose that moment to sip her tea, which by then was ice cold. She puckered her lips and continued. “You were a mystery child. I just felt you were an Oscar Wilde type and left you to whatever you did. When you insisted on going out of state for college, I figured you might have been running away from us because I never told you that was okay.”

“Gammaw, I never ran away. Not for that.” He squeeze her hand reassuringly, looking her in her gentle brown eyes.

“I know, I know. You're our big artist. I didn't want you to think you ain't have a home, neither. Speaking of, I have something for you.” She got up from her seat and went to the kitchen. He really wished he hasn't spit in his mug. All this talking was giving him desert lips.

Gammaw came back, holding what looked like a shoebox. The bottom half was black, and the smaller end with the faded size sticker faced him. The top was tan with orange sides. It looked a little rough for wear but it was still pretty intact. She handed it to him carefully. It was heavier than he expected.

“What's this?” he asked her, running a thumb against the cardboard side. She stayed standing, gripping the top of her chair.

“That's what I found you in. You were left on my doorstep in that very box.”

Keith stared intently at the black Nike symbol. The box seemed so small, it was crazy to think that he once fit in there.

“Well don't just gawk at it! Open it!” she waved for him to take off the top, and he removed it carefully. He set aside and gazed over the contents. His attention went immediately to the light blue blanket folded neatly into a square. He took it out gently, not to disrupt everything else in the box. He thumbed the soft fabric.

“Is this mine?”

“Yep. Straight from the hospital.” She watched him hold the blanket up to his nose and smell it.

It smelled like dust and… a hint of sterile hospital smell. That blanket was over twenty years old but smelled like it could have been on a baby yesterday.

The fabric was also soft to the touch, as Keith kept rubbing it he wondered if it had kept him warm that night.

Fighting the urge to rub the blanket against his face, he set it aside to look at what else was in box. He saw a red binkie, a Lion King rattle, just a couple toys fit for a small child. Against the side were a bundle of Polaroid pictures, held together by a single rubber band.

“I wish there were more of them, but I did a lot of diggin’,” she told him, watching him pull off the rubber band with a quick snap. He flipped through each one, taking in every small detail of his small face. He had big, buggy eyes, and like now, there was always hair across one of his eyes. He stopped on a picture of him and Mallorie. Her curly hair was pulled into pigtails, and her darker skinned arms wrapped around his shoulders. They both wore pink overalls, Keith's significantly darker, but still pink. Her cheek squished against his gap toothed grin, and they both smiled eagerly for the person behind the camera.

“I still can't believe I washed your red overalls with her white ones.” She peered at the picture, chuckling. “But they looked cute on you. Pink is your color. Or is that not the correct thing to say?”

He rolled his eye. “Don't get PC on me now, Gammaw.” He flicked through more pictures, and saw himself grow before his eyes. Teen Keith wore way too much black and it made him physically gag. Also, the red in his hair gave him Shadow the Hedgehog instead of Gerard Way.

Why was he ever allowed to leave the farm?

The last picture was from his graduation. His school colors were maroon and white, and the boys always wore the darker color. So he stood between Gammaw and Mallorie, swimming a maroon gown and cap nearly falling off his head. He looked so happy to be free. And he was.

“That's all of them. You look so good there. Mallorie said that's her favorite picture of you.”

“Gammaw what is all this for?” This was all awfully sentimental for him to just be going through.

“With you about to graduate in another year, I wanted to give you something to really remind you of home. Keep lookin’, there's something else in there for ya.”

Keith quirked an eyebrow at her. He saw _everything_ in the box. What could be left?

He moved the toys around and watched a part of the black bottom move.

Glancing back up at her, he watched her nod slightly. So he wasn't crazy, there was something in there.

He stuck a finger in the corner and pried out a black envelope. He held it up for her to see and she smiled.

“Black? Really, Gammaw, am I twelve?”

“It was your own fault I switched to black cuz you peeked! I couldn't give you cards for shit,” she muttered, knowing he could hear her. “Go on. Open it,” she told him.

He took the envelope and stuck his thumb under the little loose corner. With a quick slide of his thumb he ripped it open. He saw white paper and raised his eyebrows.

Gammaw held a fist to her mouth, watching him with a mix of excitement and something… sadder in her eyes.

Keith pulled out the white paper with a smile and opened it to read. As he scanned the top of the page, his smile dropped into a confused frown, and he looked back up at her with wide, wet eyes.

“Is… is this real?” his voice cracked like a  plate hitting the floor, and he felt tears welling up, ready to spill.

“Honey, of course it is. What kind of bit-” she stopped herself from swearing and ruining the moment. “I would be out of my _corn fed mind_ if I gave you a _fake_ adoption certificate.”

He blinked and a few tears rolled down his cheeks. “Yeah but, why?”

“ _Why_ ? You're asking me _why_ I'm adopting you?” she laughed but she still looked sad.There was a deep set regret in her eyes that made her look ten years older, and the gray of her hair stand out against her face. “Son, I should have done this while you were sixteen! But I couldn't and now I hope this makes up for what I should have done years ago.”

Keith still stared at the words _Certificate of Adoption_ , his own name printed clearly underneath them. “What stopped you?”

Gammaw sighed deeply, letting out about five years of regret and remorse that had built up in her heart. "I thought you deserved the chance to find your blood family."

He gave her a confused look and she explained.

“I don't know who your parents are. But you're the only kid to ever stay past sixteen and legally that meant you could search for them. And I wasn't gonna keep you from that. You were never interested in looking for them, and I let you be when you told me you wanted to leave Texas for school. But after your first year away I realized.... I was slowly losing my son.”

Gammaw was a hard, stoic woman, but for Keith it was the first time seeing her so upset and vulnerable. It hurt his heart to see her that way.

“You came into my life at such a weird time. It was nearing a year since Clay and I split and I was feeling so… Alone. And just helpless. A piece of me was missing and I couldn't just… fill it. But then you showed up on my doorstep in a damned Nike shoebox. The weirdest way love has come to me, by the way,” she joked. "Love finds those not who are seeking it, but need it. And it only took one look at you for me to know that we needed each other.”

“And then when that Lance boy came around and you told him how you didn't feel at home her anymore I felt like I had done the worst job as a mother. I hope that you can forgive me Keith. I don't want you to _ever_ think you don't got family, you hear me?"

He nodded, sending a flurry of tears cascading down his face.

"Gammaw I..."

"Keith, honey." She held his face to wipe away the tears that had pooled over. "Call me Mom."

"Mom… you forgot something in the box.”

“Huh?” She scrunched her nose. “What?”

“A pen.”

It took her a second, but she shook her head at him.  “Dammit boy. Always gotta be smarter than me.”

He laughed and stood up to hug her, bringing her close. The top of her head barely reached his chin.

“I love you Mom.”

He heard her sniffle. It was weird to feel happy that his mom was crying, but what could he do?

They both heard the door open down the hall, and excited footsteps approached them. A girl with light brown skin and purple hair piled high into a side ponytail poked her head in. “What's all this talk about love?”

“Mallorie!” her mother exclaimed. “It's about time!”

“Sorry Ma, Dad and Karen would not stop yabbering on and on.” She told her, dropping her bags in the doorway and rushing to hug her mom. Their mom. “So, did you tell him? I wanted to be here but again. It's mostly Karen. The woman will talk about _anything_.”

“Hey sis.” Keith greeted her. She squealed and grabbed him in the tightest bear hug imaginable.

“ _Keith_ !!!! Oh my god, so it's done!!!! You're my _brother_!!” She could blind traffic with her smile and her distinct drawl was music to his ears.

“I still have to find a pen, but yeah. I'm your brother.” It felt good to say that. There was something unexplainably satisfying about saying those words and meaning them.

“Oh, finally! Thank the stars.” She released her vice-like grip on him. “Come on, we need beers, let's celebrate-”

“KEITH!!!! KEEEEEIIIIIIIITH!!!!” Xavier ran into the dining room at full speed, with a exasperated Jaime tailing after him. He pounded his tiny fists on Keith's thigh, as if screaming his name didn't get his attention. “You gotta come see this!”

Mallorie looked down at Xavier, amused. “Well hi, Xavier.”

He glanced at her. “Hi.” Turning his attention back to Keith, he pulled at his sweater. “Come _on_!!! I paused the TV for us.”

Mallorie’s mouth dropped open. “Wow, so I'm just chopped liver.”

Xavier looked at her with the most extreme seriousness an eight year old could muster. “Mal. I love you. But I need Keith right now.”

Keith shrugged and Mallorie sighed. “Okay, take him.”

“I tried to stop him,” said Jaime apologetically, watching Keith follow X into the living room. “What's the big fuss in here?”

Gammaw reached behind Mallorie to grab the paper Keith had set down on the table and handed it to him.

Jaime glanced over the words and his smile stretched from ear to ear. “Holy shit. That's awesome, Gammaw.”

“Don't worry, you'll be next.” She told him, ruffling his hair.

 

Xavier pulled Keith into the living room, where the TV was paused on a news station.

_Who changed the channel?_

“What happened to the movie?” Keith asked him.

“It was over. I was looking for something else but I saw this and Keith you're not gonna believe it.” Xavier plopped down on the couch with the remote and gestured for Keith to sit down next to him. He did so, and X unpaused the TV.

A blonde woman was on screen, holding up topic cards. “...And in other news today, actors Shad Jarem and Glenn Yunn, who play Luke and Kenneth of the hit TV show _Space Ranger Partners_ announced their engagement yesterday.”

“ _What_?”

Xavier just smirked and they kept watching. Keith was a little more than concerned.

“We have an exclusive interview with the couple which we'll go to now.”

The screen changed to the set up on interview. The same blonde woman sat across from the two, who were openly holding hands as they sat in front of a _Space Ranger Partners_ poster.

“First of all, congratulations on your engagement,” she told them.

The blond one, Shad, smiled at her. “Thank you.”

“Now the world is in shock, not because of your engagement, but because no one outside of the _Space Ranger Partners_ cast knew you were dating. What would you like to say about that?”

“When we started the show three years ago, we never realized how big it was going to get,” said Glenn, the darker haired one, looking at his fiance. Shad nodded. “And our characters were set up to be argumentative ones. They never got along.”

“Well, they did, sometimes. There's a point in season one where we have what people call “the Moment”, with a capital M.” Shad interjected. “People started speculating whether or not these two had more feelings for each other than some rivalry. The day we filmed that episode was the day we went out on our first date.”

The reporter laughed. “So you guys felt the chemistry right away.”

“We are our characters as much as we _aren't_ our characters,” said Shad. “Which meant the studio didn't want us to be public with our relationship. We were both, what? Eighteen? Which is just a couple years older than our characters.  They told as that any announcement of us dating would stir up bias for the characters.”

“Like the internet didn't do that on it's own,” muttered Glenn.

“Right. Well the show has a general direction for each season. There was never gonna be _any_ relationship right off the bat.”

“So it was a false hope sort of thing?” she asked.

“In a way. It's stressful on the creators when the fandom has their own idea what should happen.”

“So for them to see us together would ignite a flurry of “LENNETH IS CANON!” articles.” Glenn sighed.

“So why now? Why take the risk?”

“We love each other. As much as as the show is important to us and DreamsNet we are people first and characters later.” Shad said simply, looking over to his partner.

“This show means a lot to people but, it's getting close to the end. We're not gonna put off our marriage because the studio says it might cause uproar.”

“And besides that, who cares? People interpret the show in so many ways. You have people who like Antura as a lesbian, you have people who think Goose doesn't like anyone. Chunk is in love with a rock and that's _okay_. A small group likes Tamo and Kenneth together and it's like… do you!”

“I mean, the guy in real life is thirty-three with a kid,” said Glenn, making a disgusted face.

“But even so,” Shad started. “It should never be a fight. The love of the show should overcome whatever feelings you have about whatever relationships become of the characters. If people see us getting married as Lenneth endgame, then let them. Because they have a bond like... No one else," said Shad, giving his partner a kiss.

The blonde reporter smiled. “So, do you have a date or is it too soon?”

Glenn and Shad glanced at each other and smirked knowingly.

“July 28th,” they said simultaneously.

They cut back to the blonde reporter in the studio. “Well, that concludes our exclusive interview with Glenn and Shad. Catch season six of Space Ranger Partners on Netflix on January 20th. We'll be right back.”

The screen cut to commercial and Xavier took that chance to look up at Keith smugly. “See Keith!!! I told you they're in love.”

Keith still stared at the screen in disbelief. Was that supposed to be a sign? First the adoption and now this?

Maybe things would be _different_ when he got back to Florida.

“What's all the ruckus?” Gammaw stepped into the living room with three mugs balancing precariously between her fingers in each hand. Keith rushed to help her, taking three mugs. The kids who were off playing on the other side of the living room came to grab their hot chocolate they waited so patiently for, sitting around the couch. Jaime had his own blue mug, holding it close to absorb the warmth. Mallorie, ever the rebel, carried two Heinekens, handing one off to Keith after all the mugs were handed out.

“So what are we all doing in here? Do you wanna put on a movie?”

“I wanna hear Mal play!” piped up Alyssa, the girl with brown pigtails.

A chorus of “yeahs!” and “play Mal play!” followed. Keith watched as his sister shake her head and the quick glint of disappointment crossed her eyes. Maybe Keith imagined it, but Mallorie was already going to grab her violin from the living room, handing Keith her beer.

He would have to ask about that later.

Gammaw herded the kids until they sat in a semicircle around the couch. Jaime plopped next to him after Xavier slid down to join the younger kids. Mal came back with her violin case, and set it down on the arm of the brown leather couch to open it

“What do y'all want to hear?” she asked them.

The kids looked at each other in confusion. Honestly, they didn't think they could get that far.

Keith tapped his sister on the arm and motioned for her to lean down so he whisper something in her ear. She smiled at the suggestion and put her violin to her chin, holding up her bow with her other hand. The first few notes she played were easily recognized as “I'll Be Home for Christmas”.

“ _I’ll be home for Christmas. You can count on me,”_ Keith sang shakily. This wasn't like the car ride. He sort of cared how he sounded, because little kids could be savages.

 _“Please have snow and mistletoe,”_ joined Jaime.

“ _And presents under the tree,”_ sang Xavier.

Soon everyone was joining in. Mal played with a tired grin, but the bright smiles on the kid’s faces made it all worth it for her.

Soon everyone joined in, the youngest ones trying their best with words.

“ _Christmas Eve will find me, where the lovelight gleams._ ” _  
__“I'll be home for Christmas,”_ sang Keith a little louder. “ _If only in my dreams_.”

Mallorie didn't even need to play with the living room being filled warm happy voices, so she joined in the now acapella song.

“ _I'll be home_ ,” she slung her free arm around her brother. “ _I'll be home. If only in my dreams_ .”  
“ _I'll be home, I'll be home. If only in my dreams_ ,” echoed the kids.

“ _I'm dreaming tonight of a place I love even more than I usually do._ ” Keith felt Jaime’s arm wrap around his back and looked to see his little brother on the verge of _happy_ tears. “ _And although I know it's a long road back_ ,” he grabbed Xavier's hand, the hand closest to him, and squeezed it. “ _I promise you_ -”  
Gammaw, who had snuck up behind them, placed a hand on Jaime's shoulder, and he glanced up at her, smiling. She had officially joined the circle.

“ _I'll be home for Christmas. You can count on me_ .” Her voice was raspy, but oddly comforting, like pulling on a big wool sweater.  
“ _Please have snow and mistletoe, and presents under the tree.”_  
Everyone was holding hands and singing,not caring what they sounded like.

This.

This is why Keith came back to Texas.

He could never really leave it behind.

“ _Christmas eve will find me. Where the love light gleams. I'll be home for Christmas. If only in my dreams.”_ Jaime nudged his brother. It was his song. His big finish.

“ _I'll be home, I'll be home… If only in my dreams_.” Keith ended the song on a crescendo, and all this kids tried to match his loudness. Eventually they all fell over in fits and giggles, clapping for Mal and Keith and Jaime, the real stars.

“Again!” Xavier shouted. The kids made noises in agreement, nodding almost violently.

“No no,” Gammaw checked her watch. It was almost eleven. Way past their bedtimes. “It's time for y'all to hit the hay. You want Santa to come here, don't ya?”

“Yes Gammaw,” they all groaned.

“Get on upstairs and I'll put y'all to bed,” she waved for them to get moving. “And leave your mugs! I don't want no accidents.” she told them as they sluggishly went upstairs in single file. Some of them stomped in protest but they knew better to act up when Santa was on his way.

Gammaw rubbed her face with a deep gurgly sigh. Before her talk with Keith she hadn't found much time to relax and all she want to do was get in bed.

“Can you three just put the cups in the sink and rinse them? I'll get 'em in the mornin’. Then Jaime, you need to go to bed too. Or Santa won't leave you nothin’.”

Jaime rolled his eyes but nodded. He knew Santa wasn't real but that didn't mean he wanted ruin the magic for the rest of the kids.

“I'm headin’ to bed. Y'all keep it down if you're gonna stay up.” She pointed to the two of them, squinting.

They looked at each other and laughed. Just like old times.

“Yeah Ga- Mom. We'll be extra quiet.”

“Like church mice,” Mal whispered. They giggled again and Gammaw shook her head.

“Lord help me, okay! I'm going! Love you.” She stomped up the stairs quicker than her tired body wanted, but the faster she put the kids to bed, the faster she could sleep. So she was fueled by motivation alone.

Keith, Mallorie and Jaime took a few minutes to tidy up, picking up all the mugs and straightening up the toy barrel in the corner. The tree that sat by the TV, where not just a month ago Xavier's present table stood, twinkled with with fairy lights in light blues and yellows and pinks. Keith made sure to turn off the TV carefully, leaving the tree on. They carried mugs to rinse them in the sink, but Jaime waved them away when they tried to help.

“You guys go. Drink. Catch up.”

Keith ruffled his brother's hair. “Merry Christmas, little bro.”

“Don't get all sappy now,” said Jaime, shoving his shoulder. “I'll see you in the morning.”

“Good night Jaime.” Mal gave him a quick hug before they returned to the living room. Their beers were lukewarm at this point but neither of them were really planning on drinking.

“Soooooooo…” Mal drew out the word comically, obviously ready to get to the juicy gossip. “What's been going on with you, huh? I heard you brought a _boy_ home! And here I thought I would be the first to disappoint Mom with my choice of men.” She waggled her eyebrows.

“She doesn't like Lance?” he asked, twisting his mouth into a worried line.

“Oh no. As far as I know she had nothing but good things to say. But you know Mom, her opinion changes like Midwest weather.”

Keith nodded. That was the truest thing anything anyone could say about his mom.

His _mom_. It still felt good.

“But I got a name out of you! So what's this Lance boy like? Do you have a picture of him?” She was adamant about knowing everything about Lance. Like a big sister should be.

“Oh, yeah, hold on.” He reached behind him to pull the phone from his pocket. It didn't take very long to find the picture of them from Xavier's party. Lance's black hat went well with his blue t-shirt and jeans, and matched perfectly with the black vest. Keith looked as country as he could, so to anyone looking, they were a regular pair of cowboys.

She took the phone from his hand and stared at the picture intensely. She seemed to scan every feature of Lance she could, gathering her judgement.

Handing back the phone, she nodded approvingly. “I like him. He's got a likeable face.”

“He's pretty…” he zoned out, thinking about Lance's familiar blue eyes, and the  smile that made his own heart skip a beat. “Pretty great!” he tried to hide his profuse blushing from his sister, who wasn't having it.

“You haven't made a move yet have you?” she asked, deadpanned.

Keith avoided any eye contact. “Gah! What is it with you, and _Mom_ , and Jaime… even _Xavier_ has somehow caught on!” he flailed his hands in frustration. “Does he have to be my boyfriend? Can't we get some development first? This feels like every starter romance on TV… _bad_.”

“Trust me, you two are nothing like Kara and Mon-El.” She delivered that line like she tasted something bitter in her mouth, like the salt of a million fans. “How long have you known each other?”

“Since September.” Like he could ever forget that.

“A couple months is a pretty decent amount of time to get to know someone,” she told him.

He sighed. “I know, but…”

“But what? Come on, Keith you gotta talk to me.” She gave her brother a steely look of support.

“There's something he hasn't told me. And I wouldn't be comfortable if I just up and told him I like him when he hasn't told me everything. He's hiding it and I don't know why.” It was such a simple thing to hide, too.

“To be fair, have you told him everything about you?” She was trying to find a middle ground here.

“I mean, yeah.” Keith had been pretty much an open book since the party, as hard as that used to be he felt like he could tell Lance anything now.

“Well do you think he won't tell you this certain thing because it hurts to talk about it? Some people just can't be open all the time.”

He never really thought about it like that. Maybe the pestering about dancing was hurting Lance as much as whatever memory of it did.

“Shit.” She was probably right.

“Is that really worth not being happy over? Y'all got a good thing going. Mom told me. She even gave him blessing.”

“Wait, really?” _When did she do that?_ “Did she say why?”

“No. Intuition, maybe? She's good seeing things that others don't.”

“Then why can't she see that you quit playing violin?” he asked her flat out.

She glanced at the stairs in fear that her mother somehow teleported at the sound of deceit. “Are you crazy?!?!” she whisper-yelled.

“I knew it!” Keith took the momentary victory of him being right as a distraction. “I saw how bummed you were when the kids asked you to play. You probably haven't played in months.”

She hung her head. “Yeah. I stopped six months ago. Right after graduation.”

“Why? What happened?” That wasn't like Mallorie at all. She loved the violin.

“Keith. I spent eight years with the damn thing. All my schooling, my college, was about music I didn't want to play.”

“You're so good, you could have played anything you wanted. Or joined a band!”

"Talent doesn't always equal passion, Keith. You're lucky. You were born with both.” She forced a smile. “You know what I love? Coloring hair. Making people look beautiful. That's apparently respectable when you have no other talents. But that's the thing about doing what's needed over over what you really love. I _needed_ to go to music school because that's what I could afford with scholarship. Now I can pursue what I actually love to do. I spent the last few months teaching music and saved enough so I could go to cosmetology school. I haven't told Mom because I'm afraid she'll tell me I'm wasting my life doing things for others when I could be successful on my own merit.”

“No, _really_ ?” Keith sarcasm was enough to make her giggle. “The woman who raised you along with _twenty other kids_ is going to tell you that you're wasting your life for wanting to take care of others. Seem legit.”

“God I hate how you're such a smart ass.” She smiled again, genuinely this time. “But you're right. I'm being silly. Just like _you_ are for not getting you a damn boyfriend already,” she proclaimed, hitting his arm.

He groaned. “Ughhhhhhh. Dammit.”

“Yeah, you're not slick.”

Keith smirked. He was starting to develop his own Lance scheming face. “I'll do my best to make a move if you tell Mom about cosmology by the time you leave.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “How do I know you'll uphold your end?”

He held out his hand and spit in it, offering it to shake. “Cowboy promise.”

“Keith that's fucking gross.”

“Oh come on I've seen you pee your pants.”

She looked down her own hand and shuddered. “Fine.” She spit in her hand and quickly clasped her against Keith's. “But you also have to promise never to mention that again.”

“Deal.” They both wiped their hands on Keith's jeans.

Mal yawned. “God I'm tired. I'm gonna head to bed. Are you coming up?”

Keith thumbed the phone in his hand. “Yeah in a minute. Just leave the hallway light on.”

She got up and stretched, reaching her arms as high as they could, yawning again. “Okay, well good night Keith. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Mal.”

She left her brother to go upstairs, leaving Keith alone with his phone and his thoughts. Oh, and the fairy lights.

With all that Mal said, it struck him that maybe Lance really didn't love dancing, and for whatever reason that was, it hurt him. Keith had no right to pester Lance, especially when Lance was so understanding about how he felt about Texas and the orphanage just a month ago. What did it matter? Lance was happy with what he wanted to do his life. All Keith could do is be happy for him and not bring up the past.

He opened his messages to an unfinished conversation between him and Lance about stars vs. angels on the tree, but instead of starting it back up, he sent him something simple.

 

 **Me:** _Hey Astro Boy_

 **Me:** _Merry Christmas :)_

 

A reply came quicker than he expected. He scolded him silently. _You should be asleep, Lance._

 

 **Leandro:** _Merry Christmas Cowboy._

 

Keith smiled at the message, but another one came right after.

 

 **Leandro:** _Go to sleep ya nut. Or Santa will skip the farm_

 

Wow. Of course.

He shook his head. This boy was something.

 

 **Me:** _Good night, ya filthy animal :P_

 

Somewhere, near the coast of Florida,  a certain Leandro Anton Ramirez-McClain stared at the message, holding a hand to his bare chest.

If only he knew how fast he made his heart beat with a few simple words.

 

Elle was gonna be here any minute and Keith wasn't prepared.

Due to her natural charm, (of course), she convinced her dads to let her visit the farm for a few hours, as long as they could stay with her. Houston was two hours away and they were not gonna turn it into an eight hour trip. But all Keith cared about was getting to see his little sister again.

All the kids were playing with unwrapped toys, Jaime was off somewhere talking to his boyfriend, and Mallorie was helping Gammaw with the food. Keith had offered to help but she knew how much seeing Elle meant to him, so he sat in the living room waiting for knock or something to know that she had arrived. All the waiting was making him so anxious he couldn't even concentrate on _Elf_.

He listened intently still for a knock at the front door, turning down the volume. The movie was background noise at this point, since the other kids didn't care to pay attention.

Suddenly there was the distinct sound of car pulling up onto the property, and Keith rushed to the front door. He smoothed down his hair and red sweater and calmly answered after the first knock.

“Keith!” she squealed. A blur in a pink sweater and black slacks practically tackled Keith as soon as the door opened.

“Hey princess. It's nice to see you.” Keith squeezed her tight. Her dads watched on with a smile, which made Keith conscious of their presence.

“Oh, hi!” Keith awkwardly fumbled around Elle to shake their hands. “It's nice to meet you.”

Dave, the taller white man with brown hair and green eyes, took Keith's hand first. “Our daughter told us all about you Keith. We're glad we get to meet you in person.”

That made him blush. “Really?”

Elle grinned up at him. Her other dad, Louis, shook his hand next. He was shorter than Dave and had dark brown skin. His dreadlocked hair was tied back in a green ponytail, that matched well with his festive sweater.

“She tells us you're quite the artist and taught her almost everything she knows,” he said.

“Oh, no, I don't think so,” he said bashfully.

“Keith! Stop being modest and take the compliment!” she told him. “He's the best artist ever.”

Her dads chuckled. “Better than us?” asked Dave.

She realized her mistake and backpedaled. “Okay, maybe third best.”

That made them burst out laughing, and Keith joined them. Elle was always the first with an answer, confident until she was proven wrong.

Keith was glad to see that hasn't changed.

“Well, I better not leave you for the buzzards.” Keith ushered them inside, taking them into the dining room. Gammaw sat, peeling potatoes into a trash can. She was concentrating so hard that she didn't even see her son bring in company. With the way she shanked the potatoes he wondered if she had a personal beef with them. Ha. Beef with potatoes.

“Mom,” he left them in the doorway to tap her on the shoulder. “Company's here.”

Gammaw glanced up to see Elle and her dads and immediately tossed the half shaved potato aside to run up and hug her.

“Oh god, honey, I'm sorry, I'm a bit messy,” she said after breaking the hug, wiping stray feelings off of her apron.

“It's okay Gammaw. Potatoes won't hurt me.”

“I wouldn't want to ruin that pretty sweater of yours.” She looked up at Dave and Louis and held out her arms. “Dave! Louis!” She gave them quick hugs. “Good to see you two again.”

“Mary Ann, it's always a pleasure.” Louis winked at her, and she pretended to swoon. His husband snorted.

“Keith, take Elle to the living room to see the other kids. The adults will stay out of your way,” she joked. He almost reminded her that he too, was an adult, but he could see Elle’s excitement to see the other kids and thought better of it.

“Do you remember the living room, Elle?” he asked her in a teasing voice.

She smacked her arm against his thigh. “I've only been gone three months, _Keeeef_.” Elle scolded him. “I'm not a dummy.”

“I'm just making sure,” he laughed, and so did the parents. “Come on, they're excited to see you.”

That made her face light up like the tree. She followed him into the living room, where the other kids were playing with their open toys. Jaime was supposed to be watching them but Keith had sneaking suspicion that he was wishing his boyfriend a merry Christmas. That didn't really matter to Keith, since the kids were fine by themselves. He would just tease him later.

“Guys, look who's here!” he announced, nudging Elle forward. All the kids swirled their heads simultaneously in one robotic like motion. She waved shyly and all of the kids broke into smiles. The quick patter of feet against the wood floor was the only sound of the impending stampede of children rushing to all embrace Elle at once. She tried her best to wrap her arms around all of them, but two arms couldn’t really fit six kids. Xavier pulled her down to plant a big wet kiss on her cheek, looking disappointed at her face when he pulled away.

“I wanted to make a spot,” he said softly. “I wanted you to match.”

The “spot” he was referring to was her vitiligo, a skin condition that caused patches of skin to lose pigmentation. Her tan skin was covered in very random patches of white skin, of all sizes and color, her most prominent being a circular spot on her left cheek, the one that Xavier tried to create to match. Her favorite splotch,  as she fondly referred to them, was the heart shaped one on her right wrist.

“Xavier, that's not how it works,” she said, chuckling and wiping off his spit. “But I _think_ I have a new one on my knee. I can show you later.”

“Yay! I love your spots. They make you look like a cheetah. But like a human cheetah. Because humans don't have tails. Or fluffy ears. That's weird.”

Keith swore this kid was a genius. It would be the only explanation for all the things that he said at whim.

The other kids nodded in agreement and that made her smile. “Cheetah, huh? I like that. It's an upgrade from princess.”

Keith quirked an eyebrow at her. “An _animal_ is an upgrade from a princess?”

“Well, almost all girls grow out of being a princess one day.”

She was also a genius. But Keith already knew that.

“Touché.” He was impressed with how much she seemed to grow in just three years. Again, a wave of sadness washed over him. They all grew up so fast.

“So, you were gonna tell me about Lance?” The kids went back to playing with their toys after another round of hugs, and she was able to get back to business: learning about her brother's crush.

“Oh, you know, I was really hoping you'd forget that,” he muttered. “I could call him on Skype, if you want to meet him.”

“Why wouldn't I want to meet your future husband?” she teased.

A deep, guttural noise escaped his throat, like a moose in heat. It was like if emotional constipation had a noise, that was it.

“Let me go… uh, get my computer.” He went up stairs and completely blew off her question. She noticed. She didn't really care. But that was _definitely_ an interesting reaction.

Keith grabbed the laptop from his room and quickly came back downstairs. They sat next to each other on couch and Keith set the computer on his lap, opening it up. Skype wasn't to hard to find and Lance was online so he pressed the video call button.

“Now, Lance is chatty, but don't go askin’ him weird stuff, okay? He doesn't need you drilling him like a two-by-four.”

“No weird questions.” The computer made the dialing noise as she spoke. “What do you consider a weird question…?”

Keith sighed and the video picked up. They were actually greeted by Lance's surprised face this time, and not a child's butt. Another upgrade.

“Hey Keith. I wasn't expecting you to call.” Lance was definitely surprised, but not in an angry way. He almost seemed relieved to see him.

“Oh no, am I interrupting your family time?”

“Nah, I came in here to download a game. I was just thinking about you.” Lance glanced away bashfully. “I thought about calling but I figured you'd be in the middle of your own family time.”

“Most of the kids are playing with their presents in here and Jaime is off somewhere doing God knows what,” he told him. “But the reason I called you because someone want’s to meet you.” Keith slid the laptop into Elle’s lap, still speaking and gestured to her with a hand that was still in the frame. “Lance, this is Elle. Elle, Lance.”

“So you're the famous Elle?” he asked her playfully.

“So you're the infamous Lance?” she shot back.

Oh sweet mercy.

“Woah there chickadee,” Lance chuckled nervously. Were all the girls in Keith's family critical? “Did I do something wrong?”

Elle stared him down. Lance shrank in his seat. Was this normal?

Suddenly she smiled. “No. I'm just testing you. Bad people crack under pressure.”

Lance was both scared and impressed.

“Stop your bad cop act, Elle,” Keith scolded her. “She wanted to meet you because I brought you to the farm and she wasn't here. She thinks you're special.”

“Am I not special?” he asked him, mock offended.

“I never said-”

“Don't worry Lance. Keith's bad a words sometimes,” she whispered conspiratorially, which made Lance laugh.

“I've noticed that too.”

“Hey!” Keith pouted. It wasn't his fault that his brain stopped working around Lance sometimes.

Elle went on with her questions. “So what do you study at Keith's school?”

Lance looked quizzically at her. “Oh no, I don't go to school with Keith. I go to the regular university. It's like next door.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “I thought you were like a dancer or some-”

“ _Elle_ .” Keith made a slicing motion at his neck, his way of saying _drop it_.

“-I mean, so what do you study there?” Keith sighed. Why did he agree to this?

“Biology and aeronautics,” he told her. Keith really couldn't see Lance's face, but he could imagine one of his anemic eyebrows quirked to high heaven.

“Are you gonna be a crop duster?” she asked seriously.

“No. I'm gonna be an astronaut.” Keith could hear the pride in his voice and It sent a warm feeling to the pit of his stomach.

“That's cool. What do you think space is gonna be like?”

“Empty. And lonely. Bit at the same time, probably the most ethereal experience of my life.”

Elle seemed to eat up his words. “Oh. So you won't be worried about your family?”

He scoffed. “Everyday. Anyone I care about will be the first thing on my mind “

Keith blushed before realizing that didn't necessarily mean him.

“Uh huh.” She turned her head so Lance couldn't see and winked at Keith. “So you're a family man?”

This was turning into an OkCupid questionnaire.

“Of course. Ask Keith. The kids over there love me.”

“Noted. Okay last question. Favorite color?”

“Easy. Blue.”

Elle glanced at Keith, who was trying his hardest to not lose his mind. “I like you, Lance. You got spunk.”

 _What ten year old knew the word spunk and why did she use it like a forty year old man_? Lance thought to himself.

“Uh, thanks.” There was that nervous chuckle again. “Can I ask you something now?”

“I suppose,” she said, but smiled invitingly.

“Did you know that you have the best older brother on the planet?” he asked her. Keith held his head in his hands. Why did they _both_ have to be embarrassing?

“Of course. It's a fact of nature.” She turned to Keith and offered an approving smile. She mouthed the words: “I like him” out of view from Lance. “You can have your computer back Keith. I'm gonna help Mallorie in the kitchen.” She turned back and waved to the camera. “Bye Lance. Nice meeting you!”

“Same to you!” said Lance. He was suddenly face to face with Keith, who wasn't exactly confident anymore, and looking a little crimson.

“And we're back,” Lance grinned. “So that's her, huh?”

“I promise she's not that analytical in person,” he told Lance.

“She seems sweet. I can see why you're so overprotective of her.”

“Yeah.” He hated to even think about what he would do if something happened to her. Or any of these kids.

But he couldn't stop them from growing. That, he was positive.

“I'm sorry she grilled you like steak.”

Lance let out an airy laugh. “Oh god, you and your euphemisms. It's _fine_ , Keith. I am neither charred or crispy. I'll survive.”

Keith's lips quirked up in an awkward half smile. Lance was very cute when he laughed.

“Good. Who else would I talk to everyday?”

Over a thousand miles and one time zone away Lance felt his heart beat faster than normal, and a steady blush colored his cheeks maroon.

“Oh, I dunno, Shiro?” Lance asked him teasingly.

“The guy's like a brother and definitely not worth more that three days a week.” Keith said solemnly.

“Ouch. Then I really must be special.” Lance waggled his eyebrows and Keith giggled.

“You sure are Astro Boy.”

Their intense gazing was interrupted by Gammaw calling everyone into the dining room. The food must have been done.

It was apparent that either of them was reluctant to hang up first, but Keith hovered the mouse over the call button.

“I have to go. I’ll see-”

“Keith?” Lance cut in.

“Yeah?”

Lance looked like he was about to say something really important. He wore a look of determination that was quickly wiped away by some second thought Keith couldn't see.

“Merry Christmas, Cowboy. I'll see you in January.”

Keith's grew into one that could light up the world. “Merry Christmas, Leandro. See you next year.”

Keith clicked the button on the other side of the screen and hung up the video. Lance stared at the black video screen that switched quickly to the Skype chat.

He sighed. “You mean more to me than you know,” he said quietly. Not even caring about the game, he closed the computer.

 

After their dinner, Louis and Dave let everyone know that they have to leave. Elle gave them her sad eyes but that did nothing. Keith offered to escort them out, and when they got outside Louis pulled Keith to the side as Dave and Elle got in the car.

“So Keith, Mary Ann told us that you you're close to graduating.”

“Oh, yeah. I have like a full year left,” he told him.

“How would you feel about an internship at the museum? You could be my apprentice.”

Keith stared at Louis in disbelief. “Really? In Houston?”

“Unless you had plans to stay in Florida…?” Louis asked him. “I know it's kind of soon but Mary Ann showed us your pictures from the exhibition. You're a natural, Keith. I feel like you would do well with us.”

At one point in time, Keith dreaded the thought of coming back and living in Texas. But in the past twenty four hours, that changed drastically.

Louis saw his hesitation and pulled a business card out of his wallet. “I know it's kind of soon, so here's my card. Give me a call if you don't get any other opportunities.”

Keith took the card. “Thank you, Louis. I will.”

Louis gave him one last pat on shoulder and made his way over to their Jeep. Elle stuck her hand out of the window for one last wave, and Keith waved back. Keith waited until they cleared the path before going back inside. He spent no time carefully placing the card in his black leather wallet and joined the others in the living room for another Christmas movie.

 

Lance never liked eavesdropping.

The worst was when the conversation was in Spanish.

That meant it was something no one was meant to hear.

But he listened anyway, face pressed against the doorway.

 

“ _¿Qué te pasa, Artemio? ¿Por qué no serás feliz por nuestro hijo?_ ”

Lance's dad took a deep breath and sighed, carrying on in Spanish. “Because, Sophia, my love, he's… jaded! This whole thing about becoming an astronaut is absurd.”

Lance felt his jaw tighten and his teeth clench.

“He's doing so _well,_ though! I'm sure he's going to make it into space program.”

“And what if he doesn't huh?” Artemio dragged his palm over his face, pulling down his features. “Is he going to use that biology degree to study whales with his sister?” he sighed again. “He should have kept dancing. At least we could see him do well and not guess his rate of success.”

“Dear, he hasn't danced in eleven years! He has no interest. We should be supportive of what he's decided to do. He's learned the risks of what could happen if you rely on talent alone.”

“Oh, and how is that?” he asked her with one bushy eyebrow reaching up to hairline.

Her face twisted. “He knows what happened at the Flamingo thirty years ago.” she said softly, almost too soft for Lance to catch.

Artemio’s eyes widened slightly, but settled back into his grim expression. “That was an act of cruelty!”

She raised her skirt the expose her right ankle. A jagged, raised scar ran from an inch above her ankle to the bottom of her foot. Lance winced; it looked like it could still cause her pain, even though it was thirty years old.

“This was an act of _fate_ , Artemio!!! I was never meant to make it past the stage of the Flamingo and I wasn't ever going to make my child live _my_ dream if he didn't want to!” She stopped yelling and spoke in a normal tone. “He told me that the story made him feel guilty and probably scared him. And you know what, I don't blame him. Things can be taken from you in an _instant_. I never had a backup plan because I thought my talent made me invincible. And you know what? I thank God everyday that you were in that ambulance picking shards out of my ankle.”

Artemio smiled. “You were quite the sight. All glitter and sequins.”

“Fifty pounds lighter,” she said wistfully.

His smiled dropped as quick as it came. “Do you really think they're going to accept an average Cuban boy as an astronaut?”

“ _Artemio…_ ”

“Hear me out. Have you seen anyone that looks like him become an astronaut?”

Sophia looked down at her feet, racking her brain for an answer. “I've looked this up. There's been twelve Latin astronauts in space. Two were Cuban.”

“But when was the last time a person like us went up there?”

She looked down again. “1967.”

He crossed his arms. “Do you see what I'm saying? He could be doing this all for nothing! Or get killed like the people on the _Challenger_.” He grabbed her and turned her so he could make deep, intense eye contact. “I'm frightened of losing our boy, Sophia.”

She blinked back tears. “I am too, my love. But he is grown. We can't stop him.”

Lance let their words settle in his brain like foam on a latte. Did he really make a mistake?

“He could have been a nurse like his old man.”

“ _Doctor_. You're about to get your degree here soon.”

“Graduating at the same time as my third youngest son wasn't what I had planned,” he admitted. “It definitely took way too damn long.”

“But you're almost there. All those sleepless nights will be worth something.” She told him, wrapping her arms around shoulders.

His own arms slid toward her waist. “Speaking of sleepless… I heard him laughing at his phone in the middle of the night when I was playing Santa. Do you know anything about that?”

 _Oh no_.

“Oh, it's just a boy. Completely harmless.”

There was that eyebrow again. “Harmless? Don't you think he might be a distraction?”

She looked at her husband thoughtfully. “No… I think Leandro knows what he's doing. Besides, he's smitten.”

 _Thanks, Mama_ , Lance thought to himself.

“Well, of course, I have to meet him,” he said, like it was obvious.

They swayed back and forth in their own dance. As much as Sophia could move without her ankle acting up.

“Dear, you already have. It's Keith. The boy he introduced us to?”

Artemio tilted his head in surprise. “The kid with the mullet?”

She lightly smacked his forearm. “Don't be mean,” she scolded. “It's just a style.”

“I never really pegged our son to fall for the artist types.”

“My love, have you _met_ our son?”

“...Touchè. But he's so reserved and shy? I thought Leandro’s type would be more… rustic.”

Man, they had a lot to learn.

“Either way, this boy means a lot to Leandro. I hope we can really get to know him before they do anything serious.”

“Like what, hold hands?” he joked. “I would be more surprised if he didn't.”

“At least, there would be no accidental babies.”

_Oh my cheesing Jesus…_

Lance didn't know what was funnier, his parents discussing gay sex, or the fact that they thought he wasn't a virgin.

“In any case, I'd love to really get to know him. We've already got Hunk.”

“Honey, Hunk is _definitely_ different.”

They laughed together and Lance never heard such a happy sound. That was his cue to leave and dwell on their words. He tried to creep quietly back to his room but a creaky floorboard nearly gave him away. He sprinted away to his room before his mom could her head out into the hallway, brows furrowed.

 _Too close_.

 

Weed and hair dye was a strange mix of smells and he wasn't sure which one he preferred over the other.

When his sister offered to dye his hair the last thing he expected was to hotbox the bathroom. He also didn't expect his first experience with weed to be hotboxing a bathroom with his sister, either. He was sure it would have been Shiro tricking him with an edible.

“Hold still.” She offered him the joint while she slathered red dye on his new bleached undercut. He was still recovering from that last hit, and he knew this next one would make him shake with coughs. She tied his hair that wasn't being dyed into a tight bun, and stood back to admire her handiwork. “Looks good. The dye is even.” She took the joint from him and took a big hit. She inhaled, then let the smoke out of her nose.

The bathroom was becoming hazier with each blow of smoke, so Keith opened the window above the shower to clear the air. The earthy skunk smell subsided a bit, and Keith let the fresh air hit his face.

“You know, when you said “sibling bonding time”, I thought you meant something… _not_ this.”

“You didn't _have_ to smoke my weed.”

“But you _knew_ I was going to smoke your weed. Full experience.”

“Glad my brother is so great at saying no to peer pressure,” said Mallorie, chuckling.

“You're not my peer. You're my big sister.”

A small smile crossed her lips. “And I'm so thankful for that.” She offered him a hit and he took it, still coughing violently.

“So,” she waited for his coughing fit to end. “We still have a deal. How are you gonna ask him out?”

Keith stared at her like she asked him to rip his sketchbook apart. “You're assuming he even likes me enough to say yes.”

“Keith…”

"I'm a dirty, dirt boy from Texas. What is there to like, anyway?”

“First of all, you're not dirty. Second, I'm gonna need you to really look in the mirror and see all the awesomeness about you. You're amazing, Keith. I think Lance can see it too. And third, if it turns out he doesn't, the worst he can say no. And I doubt that's a possibility.” She gave him a hearty pat on the shoulder. “You are honestly selling yourself short.”

“I know… but he's an Adonis… And I'm a little, tiny harpy.” He made the universal gesture for small, holding his hand close to his eye.

“Okay Percy Jackson. Now you're exaggerating.”

“God. He's cute too.”

She laughed. “Slow down tiger. Conquer one quest first.” She checked her phone for the time. “We should rinse you. You ready?”

“Yup.”

Before Keith could hunch over the tub, there was a knock at the door. They scrambled to put out the joint and hide in in an Altoids box, and Keith grabbed the Febreeze and sprayed it everywhere, trying to cover the weed smell.

They moved back into natural positions and unlocked the door.

“Come in!”

Gammaw opened the door. “How’s the hair, kiddos?”

“I was just about rinse the dye out,” she told her mom in her most innocent of innocent voices.

Keith nodded. Gammaw smiled and looked between them.

“I want to see as soon as it's done.” She turned to leave but a certain smell hit her nose. She sniffed audibly. “What's that gross smell?”

The two glanced at each other.

“There was… a skunk outside of the window. I think he fought something,” Keith quickly fabricated.

“Yeah, sounded _nasty_ ,” Mallorie agreed.

She looked at the two, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Well, I'll leave you two to it so you can get out of here.” She took one last look around the bathroom. As she turned around, she had one last thing to say. “Don't forget to clean up the ashes in here, too.”

She closed the door as both spotted the small pile of ashes on the porcelain sink at the same time. That sent them into a fit of giggles that ending with both nearly in tears.

What great sibling bonding time.

 

New Year's came and went, and soon it was time for both Mallorie and Keith to leave and go back to where they had to be.Mallorie left first, the night before Keith had to make his sixteen hour drive. It shouldn't have felt different when he hugged her but there was more of a meaningfulness to it. It didn't feel as… empty.

“You better tell me y'all are something by the time I see you again,” she whispered as he held her tight.

“I'm gonna do my best,” he told her. “Cowboy promise.”

She moved on to her mother, who grabbed her in a bear hug.

“You're gonna do great in cosmetology school, sweetie. I believe in you.”

Mal squeezed their mom. “Thanks Mom.” She broke their hug and looked at them both one last time.

“I love you guys. I'll see you soon.”

“Love you too, sis.”

When Keith and Gammaw went back inside, Keith gave her a quick kiss goodnight and went off to bed. He was pretty much packed for the morning, and since his drive was so long, he was leaving at about four. He wanted to get back at the dorm before curfew so he had the whole Sunday before classes to get shit together.

 

Keith's phone alarm blared in his ear, jarring him from his sleep. He gathered his bags and made his way down the stairs, going straight through the dining room to the front hallway and through the door. The sun was nowhere close to rising, but he was surprised to see the porchlight on.

“Do you have time for a cup of coffee?”

Keith jumped at the sound of Gammaw's voice. She sat in a wicker bench next to one of his favorite chairs, a steaming cup of coffee sat next to her, holding her own in her hands.

Keith set his bags down with a smirk and sat next to her, grabbing the cup and taking a sip. The warm liquid felt amazing going down his parched throat.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked her, taking another sip.

“I wasn't going to let you go without saying goodbye. That would be bad parenting.”

He chuckled. “Of course.”

She sipped at her coffee. “You should really stop at Buc-ee’s for gas. It will be awhile before you stop again.”

“I will Mom. Quit worrying.”

“Son, I'll _always_ be worried about you.” She set aside her mug and took his free hand. “That's what a mother is supposed to do. Worry about her kids.”

“You don't have to prove anything to me,” he teased her, but squeezed her hand all the same. He set down his own mug to grab his phone from his pocket and checked the time.

“I have to go Mom.”

She dropped his hand and held out her arms. “Come here.”

He wrapped his arms around her in a tight squeeze. “Bye Mom.”

“Have a good semester. We'll all be rooting for you.”

“I'll try to visit for Spring Break.”

“You don't have to, if you have plans with a certain someone.”

He pulled away and looked at her quizzically. An amused smiled followed.

“Alright Mom.” He stood and went to grab his bags. “See you in a few months.”

“See ya soon, son!”

Keith threw his bags in the trunk and started up the car. He took one last look at the farm house where his mom stood on the porch and waved, before pulling onto the dirt road and driving away.

 

After over a thousand miles, most of a day, and a whole time zone skip later, Keith was finally back at the dorm and was greeted by a set of burly arms strangling him in hug.

“Keith! Buddy! It's good to see you!” exclaimed Shiro. He dropped Keith back to the floor and let him catch a breath.

“Hey Shiro. How was your break?” he asked after he was no longer winded.

“Oh man. The best. I spent the last week in England with Allura and her dad. What about you?”

“I spent it with my family.”

“Did anything exciting happen?”

Keith thought back to the adoption surprise and the hair dyeing and getting to see Elle and her dad's internship offer, and smiled.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

 

 **Leandro:** _Meet me @ Aroma in 10. I have something for you._

 

Keith walked into Aroma holding his own surprise for Lance in a small blue bag. Lance was already there, sitting with a bag between his legs in their usual spot.

“Hey!” he stood up to hug him, which Keith accepted wholeheartedly. “Sit! Sit! I wanna give you your gifts.”

Keith spotted the coffee and gift bag and that warm feeling returned.

Setting his bag aside, he reached for the cup marked with his name and brought it to his lips. The bittersweet taste of mocha eased its way to his stomach.

“Wait, I've got news,” Keith stopped him, setting a hand on his arm.

He glanced down at Keith's hand for just a millisecond. “News?”

Keith took a deep breath. “So... I was adopted over break.”

Lance took in his words and his eyes widened. “So wait, you-?”

Keith could almost feel tears again. “I have a mom. And a big sister.” He took a shaky breath. "Gam- Mom said she was giving me a chance to look for my parents and that's why she didn't do it sooner. But why look for a home when you already have one, ya know?"

"Keith that's amazing. I'm so happy for you.” Lance could only imagine the elation Keith must have felt after years of feeling slightly out of place.

“I need to thank you,” Keith told him.

“Me? For what?”

“You helped me realize that was always my home, no matter what happens with Gammaw and the other kids.”

“Awww jeez, Keith. I didn't do that.” He rubbed the back of his neck bashfully.

“Don't be modest,” Keith said, repeating Elle's words. “You really opened my eyes that day.”

“Well, I guess…”

Keith never saw Lance act so shy. “Okay, I'll change the subject.” He reached for the bag next to his foot. “I got you something from a place in Texas that I think you would like.”

Lance took the bag and peered inside. Immediately he burst into giggles, pulling the package out. “Beaver Nuggets?”

“They're a Buc-ee’s staple. Basically they're caramel flavored Cheetos. And I know how you like weird tasting things.”

Lance shook his head. “Keith. How many times do I have to defend chocolate Twinkies to you?”

“They are _weird_ , Lance,” he insisted.

Lance looked back down at the package, turning them over and scanning the back. “I think I'm going to like these though. Thank you.” He set them aside so he could give Keith his gift bag. “Your turn.”

Keith reached first for the tube wrapped in colorful wrapping paper. A poster in glossy plastic wrap was revealed after all the paper was gone.

“A poster?”

“A _Space Ranger Partners_ poster. I saw it at the mall with my family and thought of you. I know it’s not as cool as a portrait or anything but-”

“Oh, hush. It came from you so I love it.” Keith assured him.

Lance grinned. ‘There’s one more thing in there. It’s more for Red, actually.”

“You mean you bought something for my car?”

“Just look at it before you start to judge me.”

Keith reached in past the gift paper and pulled out a bumper sticker. The background looked a little like the Lone Star flag. The words “Misplaced Texan” were set across the white and red stripes. Keith threw his head back in laughter.

“This is actually amazing. I love this. Thank you.”

Lance himself staring at Keith’s smile and averted his gaze. “So, Keith, there was actually one more thing I need to tell you. Well, more like, ask you.”

“Sure, what’s up?” Keith moved a little closer against the armrest to show Lance he had his full attention.

Lance swallowed nervously and his fingers inched unnoticed towards Keith’s hand. “So, I was wondering if you would-”

Before Lance could finish, Hunk burst through the doors at full speed, looking panicked. His eyes settled on Lance and relief washed over him.

“There you are! Come on, we have class in fifteen minutes!” He seemed to realize that Lance wasn’t alone a little _too_ late.

“Oh, hey Keith.”

Keith waved. “Hey!”

Hunk grimaced at the dismayed expression on Lance’s face. He was obviously trying to ask Keith out. _Again_.

“Hey, sorry for crashing the party, but we have to get to class,” said Hunk, trying to look as apologetic as possible. Lance glared at him, but Keith looked down at his phone.

“Oh man, I really have to go, too.” Lance’s dark look melted under Keith’s warm smile. “Thanks for the gifts, Lance,” he said, squeezing his leg.

“Yeah… I mean, you’re welcome.”

“Bye Hunk, nice seeing you again.” He waved one last time and left the cafe with his bags in tow.

Hunk watched Keith leave, then turned to his best friend. “I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not,” he spat.

“Hey, this is what? The third time now? Don’t you think that he would take a hint?” Hunk asked.

Lance crossed his arms. “I’m just going to try again. It wasn’t a good time.”

“Maybe you’re barking at a tree that… doesn’t want to barked at.”

He heard his friend’s words, but he didn’t want to believe them. His gaze traveled to the window, staring out of it, even though Keith was long gone, and sighed.

 

As Keith rounded the corner, he felt his heart flutter more than it ever did. He still couldn’t believe these were real, tangible feelings.

 

Really, how hard was it for him to believe that he was falling in love?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Translation: 
> 
> “¿Qué te pasa, Artemio? ¿Por qué no serás feliz por nuestro hijo?” - "What's wrong with you, Artemio? Why won't you be happy for our son?"  
> (Big thanks to paperrabbit13 for this translation)
> 
> Free cookie for anyone who gets the chapter title reference :)


	5. You(r Love) Will Be Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith finally hears the the story we've all been waiting for about Lance's mom and his history with dance. With some help from Allura, he's inspired to help Lance get back on his feet.
> 
> So to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT okay so a lot has happened in the 2 months it took me to get back to this story and man is it wild but I'll sum it up:
> 
> I've moved back home. Turns out those other guys were worse.  
> I have a new relationship. She's wonderful.  
> And lastly I got a new job WHICH IS WHY I HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO TOUCH THIS STORY.
> 
> I hope y'all can forgive me. Please give me all the feedback you can. I want to jump into this story with new light.
> 
> *Warning: Brief description of violence*

Keith found himself in the dance building library for work a week after coming back from break. Someone had left books from the other library in the art library, so naturally Keith found himself bringing them back there.

He traveled with his cart down the walkway that connect the art library to the dance library, hoping that it wouldn’t take long because he actually got off a little earlier than usual today and he wanted to get some practice in for his oil painting project.

He went up to the front desk and asked where the sections where the books belonged to were, and after a nice woman pointed them out Keith piloted his cart over to the shelves and started putting them back. Scanning over the numbers, he found their appropriate  places on the shelves. Soon Keith was down to one book that didn’t belong in that section, so he rounded the corner into a more open area of the library, where tables were lined in rows for studying, for the other side of the shelf. There was only one person there, at the table directly behind Keith that was closest to the shelf. They seemed immersed in their book that hid most of their face, which at a quick glance looked like it was about ballet. Keith felt like he was creeping, so he turned his attention back to finding the the place for the book.

He eventually found the right spot and slid the book into the shelf. Finally able to relax, he tried to lean against his cart. Of course, the cart didn’t care if Keith wanted to relax, and it promptly slid from underneath his palm to show him who was the nonstationary object around here.

The person hiding behind their book snickered at Keith’s attempt at recovery, but something about their laugh seemed… _familiar._

Keith moved closer to the table, trying to peer over the book. The person shrank back when they noticed Keith’s scrutiny.

“That… was pretty funny, huh?” He was trying to be friendly to the person, whether or not it turned out he knew them. But he was _sure_ it sounded like…

He moved around the corner of the table, pretending to go grab his cart, but really, he was trying to catch a glimpse of the person’s profile. Warm brown legs in blue surf shorts peeked from under the table, and Keith frowned. He grabbed the cart and moved back over, certain that it wasn't a stranger this time.

“You know what else is funny?” Keith took a few hesitant steps, and the person holding the book moved it closer to his face. “Hiding yourself when I already know who you are.”

The person's shoulders drooped and he didn't even flinch when Keith reached out and pulled the book back with a finger.

“Lance, what are you doing here?”

The guilty look on Lance's face was amusing, but bordering on sad. He obviously didn't want to be discovered.

“Just… doing some light reading.” He rested his elbow on the table and set his chin on his closed fist. “Do you come here often?”

Keith fought the urge to snicker and while still holding down the book, pulled out the chair right across from him and sat down.

“Not to sound like an iconic teen movie but… you don't even _go_ here, dude.”

Lance chuckled. “You're right about that.”

“How'd you even end up here?” he asked.

“Well, I remembered when you showed me the art building and I just… walked in and asked where the library was? And while I was up here I told someone I was lost and they told me all the libraries were connected, which is really cool, by the way.”

“So, that doesn't tell me what you're doing here in the dance library.” Keith softened his playful gaze into one of concern. “What's going on?”

Lance looked away. “It's complicated.”

“I'm good with complicated.”

Finding himself looking back at Keith to see his face lined with worry, he sighed deeply, and thought back to earlier in the day.

 

“You can't be serious, Lance. Your parent's wouldn't say that.”

Hunk stood in the kitchen, chopping onions for his omelette. The smell was heavenly, but Lance didn't feel like eating. Not after what he just told Hunk.

“Hunk, buddy, I wish I was lying.” Lance was splayed out on the couch, his limbs going every which way. That was his horrible news position. Or hangover position. Depending on the day.

“But why would they think that you're not good enough for the space program? With your grades since high school, it makes no sense,” Hunk reminded him.

This was true. Though there had been a couple of slip ups, his record of good grades was near flawless. He had no problems in college so far, even with his minor, and was on the straight track to graduating with a 4.0.

“They're also worried that if I make it in, I won't even make it to space. I'll just be a poster child or I'll die in a freak launch accident.”

His friend turned to face him, brows knit and his lips turned into a frown. “Really?”

Lance sighed. “I feel like they don't have that much confidence in me. My dad called me an ‘average Cuban boy’.”

Hunk crossed his arms. “Lance, we both know you're not _average_.”

He stared at the ceiling. “You know what the weird part is? He said he would rather me be a dancer. Like it wasn't something I gave up eleven years ago.”

“Sometimes talent is easier to achieve success with than just outright smarts.”

“But why would I go back to that? After all I've worked for! I know, it's like I bit off more than I can chew and still managed to fit it in my mouth, and now my parents want me to just go backwards and spit it all out."

He said that last part a little quieter than than the rest, and Hunk could sense his hurt emulating in waves.

“Lance. Look at me.” Lance still stubbornly refused to look up. “ _Look at me_.”

The change in his tone prompted Lance to sit up and face his best friend.

“Do you think my parents wanted me to be an engineer? They were dead set on having me carry on the family food business. They never thought I would make it this far.”

Lance knew this first hand. He remembered the day they both received their acceptance letters and he biked over to Hunk’s house a few streets over and they both cried when they opened them. They were going to achieve their dreams together.

His parents tried to argue with him, but there was nothing they could do. Hunk received a full scholarship and they didn't have to pay for anything.

It was shitty, but parents always had their own ideas for their child’s future.

“Neither of us are average. And neither of us has to do what our parents think is ideal, either.”

Again, he was right. But something had been bugging him for a while, and he needed to get it out of his system.

“I wouldn't mind dancing again.”

There. He said it.

Hunk raised a cautious eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I know it's weird, but for a few months now I've felt myself drawn to the idea of dancing again,” he said, nervously twiddling his thumbs. “It really started back in October-”

“After the exhibition you went to?”

Lance's eyes narrowed. “Yeah, but how did you-?”

Hunk scoffed. “I'm not blind, buddy. All this time you've spent with Keith has changed you. And I don't mean that in a bad way, either.”

Lance's heart fluttered at the mention of his name. “Yeah, he has a lot to do with it. But he has no idea why I quit in the first place.”

“You mean you haven't told him about your mom?”

He hated the accusatory tone in Hunk's voice. “I didn't know how to just… ease into that! It's a gruesome story! I wasn't going to tell him while he was stranger.”

“So what's still stopping you?”

Lance's mouth fell into a tight lipped frown.

Well… _fuck_.

Hunk saw his distress and tried to recover."I think, if you really want to dance again, you should tell Keith the story. It seems to be the only thing holding you back.”

Wow. Third strike. Right on the money.

“You're right,” he said quietly. “I'm just torn.”

Hunk smirked. “You know you're allowed to like more than one thing at a time, right? You're not Troy Bolton.”

Lance found himself smiling. “Are you using my love of High School Musical against me?”

“Maybe…”

He chuckled. “Wow. Thanks.”

“I'm serious, though.”

"Hunk, you know how life is. You think you can do both but then it offers you this heartbreaking choice."

“So enjoy it casually. Treat it like a stress relief. You see me casually cooking right?” He gestured to the ingredients behind him.

“Yeah…”

“But do you see me suddenly applying to culinary school? No. Cuz I'll be damned if I end up in someone else's kitchen.”

That made Lance laugh.

“See, you get it. Lance, dancing is something you still love to do. But it doesn't have to be your life. You’re still applying for that NASA internship at JFK Space Center in March, right?”

“Of course.”

“So work on the _best_ damn application ever and using dancing to take away your stress. I’m sure when you make it in and you're working there for the summer, your parents will have zero doubts about you. It took me to show them I was at the top of my major for mine to know that I was serious. Yours just need that nudge.”

Lance brightened. “See, this is why you're my best friend.”

Hunk chuckled and turned back to his vegetables. “Do you want an omelette?”

“God, yes.” His appetite had returned.

 

“So is this the part where you finally tell me why you stopped dancing?” Keith asked him, after listening to him explain his morning and the subsequent argument of his parents. He left out his mom revealing the one thing Keith wanted to know, for the purpose of explaining it in full.

“I guess I owe it to you now at this point, huh?”

Keith reached across the table, grabbing one of Lance's hands with his own, sand with the other he plucked the book from his other hand and setting it aside to curl his fingers into his. He offered him his most supportive smile.

“Go ahead.”

Lance took a deep breath, more for the fact that Keith was _holding his hands_ than anything else.

“So, the story starts with a girl named Sophia Ramirez. She was the best dancer at Varadero High, and when she graduated, she had her sights set on going to college for dance. The only thing was, the school she wanted was in the States, and she couldn't afford it that year. So she started dancing at this club called the _Flamingo_. It was a bit of a rundown place on the south side of Varadero, but she loved it there. She was a server and a stage dancer, and she made most of her money on stage. She was a crowd favorite. All of it was just to make enough to afford her school and live in the States, and she was getting so close to her goal that she was already applying for next year.”

Lance's breath hitched as he tried to say the next few words. Obviously this was hard for him. Keith just squeezed Lance's hands and nodded, encouraging him to get it all out.

“One night, one of her admirers came in on a night that she was dancing and demanded that she give him a dance. It wasn't that kind of place, so she declined and tried to go back to the center stage. But every time she moved across the stage he would reach out and try to grab her. She told him one last time that she didn't want his money, loudly, for security to hear, but it was too late. The guy, in his drunkenness, smashed a bottle over the table, grabbed her by the leg, and stabbed her right in the ankle.”

Keith's eyes went round like little moons, and a small gasp escaped him.

“That lowlife fucking asshole… took it upon _himself_ to take away her dream, all because he couldn't control himself.” Keith could see tears welling up in Lance's eyes. Oh god. _Oh god_.

He sniffed. “When they put her in the ambulance, a nice EMT in the middle of nursing school did his best to stop her from hurting and picked out most of the glass from her ankle. His name was Artemio McClain.”

 _Oh_.

“She was so beautiful to him... and she thought he was an angel until they arrived at the hospital. So, it was love at first sight. So when she was recovering in the hospital for a week, he was the first to send her flowers. The last few days he got up the courage to talk to her, and she loved his company.”

A fond smile made its way across his face, but like a passing train, it didn't stay.

“It took a few weeks of physical therapy for her to walk correctly on her right leg again, and after getting to know him, she took his offer of letting him give her rides to the hospital. It turned out he lived two streets away, so she didn't feel so bad. Besides, she would have been lying if she said wasn't starting to fall for him too.”

Keith smiled. _She sounds like me_.

“They spent a lot of time together. After finding out she could never really dance again, he helped her get a job at a local grocery store, after a couple months, they moved in together. Absolutely _scandalous_.”

Lance watched Keith snicker, and felt his heart race like Lightning McQueen.

“S-so, uh, right before she turned nineteen, she found out she was pregnant. Her parents weren't exactly _pleased_ , but once Artemio found out, he dropped down to propose to her on the spot. They got married on the beach in June, and a few months later, she had a boy named Tye.”

 _Lance's older brother_ . _Awww_.

“Artemio graduated and became a nurse, while she stayed home and raised their son. It was hard on her sometimes, like when she would play music on their old desk radio, and all she would want to do was twirl around the living room. She found solace in rocking her son instead, moving him to the beat and hearing him giggle. It was her new passion in life, to raise amazing kids. Soon she had a girl named Alexianda, and she loved her love of the ocean. Then a few years later, she had this special little bun in the oven that she didn't have a name for yet, but she was excited for him, even though there wasn't much room left in the house. It was her husband that suggested that they move to the states, something she hadn't thought about in nearly a decade. He told her that it would grant him better working opportunities and they would be able to find a bigger house for the little floaty one in her tummy.”

Now that the (probably) hardest part was over, Keith didn't really need to hold his hands anymore. But he did anyway.

And Lance was not complaining.

“So they moved. The transition wasn't as bad as she expected; she actually felt at home in this new place. The little bundle of awesomeness came later than she expected, but she was happier that he wasn't, like, a Gemini.”

All these jokes were just softener for something that was coming next; Keith could feel it.

“The little one's name was Leandro, and he loved dancing, just like his mom. This made her happy and sad at the same time, but she tried her hardest to hide the sad part, because she was…” his voice hitched again. “She was proud of her baby boy.”

Keith found himself rubbing his thumbs on the side of his hands, hoping it would help him feel better.

“He took lessons when he started kindergarten, and god, he loved it so much, more than his little five year old self knew. By the time he was ten, he was able to dance with the biggest kids, he was so advanced. He was set to perform for his family for the first time at a little recital, and he was so excited to be dancing with the big kids and showing his mom how much he improved.”

Keith could sense a “but” coming along.

“But, something happened. He was wandering around the house, being a little dick and snooping around because he was bored. He noticed she was talking to Alexi alone more often, so of course he spied on them when she was giving Alexi a talk about boys. She was telling her the Flamingo story as a warning, telling her to never let anyone inflict violence on her. That was the first time he saw her ankle scar, too.”

He grimaced. _Oh, Lance_.

“Suddenly, it all made so much sense. Why she would suddenly zone out when he mentioned the classes, and why he would see her look sadly at the building when she picked him up from them. That should have been her.”

Keith couldn't even imagine what that must have felt like.

“Little Leandro didn't know _what_ to do. On one hand, he loved dancing. On the other, it made his mommy sad. He felt so guilty, more so than any ten year old should have felt. So he made up his mind; at his recital, he flubbed the last part of his routine and landed “wrong” on his foot. He told he parents that dancing was lame and he never wanted to do it again.”

His voice was low and softer than Keith had ever heard, and it felt like his heart being squeezed like a vice.

“When he was eleven, his class started learning about space exploration, and it was honestly the coolest thing he ever learned about. They were taught all these things about space crafts and oh man, the _people_! Mae Jemison, Buzz Aldrin, John Glenn! All so freaking amazing, it just blew his little mind. So he started telling his parents that he was going to be an astronaut.

“His parents did little things for him, too, like buying a telescope and taking him to the science center, because they thought it was a phase. But he was happy, because his mom didn't seem so sad anymore. He was gonna make them proud. That's all he wanted.”

Keith could see that Lance was holding something back and gave him one last reassuring squeeze.

“Except… he never gave up dancing. It was just- just an instinct. When he heard music and felt that… need to move, he just did. Sometimes, when he was just studying, he would practice old moves from his recital, in private where he didn't feel guilty. Or he would watch music videos and practice the dancer’s moves in the mirror of his bathroom. He thought he was just being a goofball, but really? He missed it a lot. But he couldn't bring himself to have it be a part of his life again. He had something new, something better. Having the twins further cemented that for him. They were going to have the most awesome older brother alive.”

Lance's signature grin finally made an appearance. “He never gave dancing much thought again until he ran into this guy named Keith who caught him dancing in the street like a dumb ass.”

 _Oh jeez that's me_.

“This… _amazing_ artist somehow pinpointed his greatest insecurity, but somehow he made Lance feel good about dancing again. It was really confusing for him, and he felt really bad about not telling him everything sooner.”

He smiled apologetically, and Keith blushed.

“Lance thought that maybe it was a weird sort of sign. Maybe he had been wrong about trying to keep such an important thing about him buried so deep. And after eavesdropping on his parents, that growing fear he had was right. But he didn't want to give up. He worked so hard to get as far as he did. But after his friend told him that getting into dancing again might help him relieve the stress of trying to prove himself to parents, he found himself here, trying to find an answer.”

“You thought that you would find your answer in a book on ballet?” Keith teased him, trying to alleviate the sad atmosphere.

“I'm not the best at coping, Keith,” Lance told him. “So… there's the entire story. You know everything. Do with it what you will, I guess.”

Lance let go of Keith's hands and folded his arms across his chest, clearly still upset but he didn't want him to see. He stared off at the shelves, trying to calm down his heavy heart.

Keith was never one to be the voice of comfort, that was something he had a harder time with.

“Hey, man,” he started, getting Lance's attention. “You're not going to feel any better sitting in this dusty library.” He reached across the table for the book, grabbed it, and held it up for Lance to see. “This? Is not gonna tell you anything.” Setting the book back down, he crossed his own arms, not to shut Lance out, but to make his point. “Would you want to meet with someone about dancing again?”

Lance finally turned to face him. “Who is it?”

“Her name is Allura. She's a dancing student and she's Shiro's girlfriend. I think she'd be a better help than me. She's _also_ a good friend.”

Lance pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Is she nice?”

He chuckled. “Of course.”

Keith felt Lance study him, but all he did was still smile supportively.

“Okay… I'll meet her.”

“Yes!!!” Keith exclaimed, too loudly. Someone from another part of the library shushed him, and both of them had to try their hardest to stifle their laughter.

“Do you want to wait for me to get off? I should be getting off…” he glanced down at his bare wrist, scrunching his nose. “Soon?”

Lance giggled at the beautiful, awkward guy in front of him. “I think I'll stay,” he told him, grabbing the book he had earlier. “I wanna finish my book.” He held it up for Keith to see. “I was on a _pretty_ _important_ chapter.”

“Ha. Okay, Lance. I'll text you later.”

Lance waved him off as he took his empty cart and headed back over to the art library. He waited until he was clearly out of range before he let his head fall onto the table and groaned in frustration because _how could one person make him feel like this_?

 

Keith found himself back in his bathroom, but this time, calling Allura would not nearly be as awkward as the Maturbation Misunderstanding.

The ringing cut off abruptly and a rich, feminine voice answered. “Hello?”

“Allura? It's Keith.”

“Keith! Oh goodness, were you calling to to remind me about brunch? Because I _didn't_ forget.”

He laughed at her “convincing” statement. “No, besides, that's next Sunday. I wanted to ask you for a favor.”

“A favor? I'm all ears.”

“Are you going to be in one of the studios tomorrow?” he asked her, hope rising in his chest like bread. He really wanted this for Lance.

“Yes, I have it to myself tomorrow. Why, were you finally going to try your hand at foxtrot?”

“No, I-”

“Salsa? Oooh, or tengo?”

“No, Allura. I was wondering I could bring Lance to meet you.”

Her end went quiet, and Keith could tell she was puzzling over what he said.

“Can I ask why?”

Keith gave her the gist of Lance's situation without delving too much into personal details.

“Do you think you can get him back on his feet, so to speak?”

There was a brief moment of thoughtful silence on Allura’s end, and Keith could swear he could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

“You know I can't make promises-” Keith gasped. “But bring him around three in the afternoon tomorrow. I've got some ideas.”

Keith couldn't smile any harder if he tried. “Thanks, Allura.”

“No problem. The brunch is _next_ Sunday, right?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he chuckled. “Bye Allura.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Keith hung up the phone and sat back against the porcelain, breathing out a huge sigh.

Lance was going to enjoy himself.

 

They met at the art building, which was the center of campus. All the buildings made a five-pronged star, with art in the center, dancing to the left, vocal music to the right, theater directly north, and the instrumental and writing buildings at south west and south east.

A tall, gray bricked building slowly came into view as they walked down the path from the art building. With the clingy vines that adorned the side without the walkway, and the old, flaking paint of the bricks, it reminded Lance of an aging dancer. It was obviously the oldest building of the main five, and probably the only one with any original structure.

Keith explained to Lance that the dance studios were on the second and third floors, while the first held the classrooms and the fourth was the library and teacher's offices.

Being the oldest building, it didn't have an elevator. Not that it was really needed. But it was inconvenient for some non-dance teachers. They could always access the building from the library walkway, the way Lance did, but that wasn't what Keith was doing. They walked straight into the glass double doors, making a beeline for the staircase behind the metal door. The wrought iron staircase was a nice little workout. Lance followed behind Keith, watching him flounce up the stairs, his expression really unreadable. Keith noticed he moved a little too slow for his liking, so he reached behind him to drag Lance up the stairs. His enthusiasm brought weird bubbles to his stomach; he didn't know whether he was nervous or excited.

Probably the first one.

As they approached the third floor, they both heard the faint sound of classical music.

The hallway of the third floor was long, with white walls and a black tile floor. Benches lined the walls, stopping before each door. There was a turn at the end, and it sounded like the music was coming from the third studio.

Lance clenched a fistfull of his shirt, tugging it nervously. “Keith, I don't think I can do this.”

The hall, the benches, even the lingering smell of sweat brought back too many many memories.

Keith pushed Lance in front of him, placing a hand on the small of his back, guiding him forward.

“I know you can do this. And if this isn't what you think will help, you don't ever have to come back. You know that, right?”

Lance nodded and they both walked down the hall, moving closer to the music.

As it grew louder Lance felt his heels dig into the floor. His body didn't even want to make the turn.

“She's here,” Keith whispered, sounding even more ominous than the music.

Somehow they managed to make into the studio, stepping inside. The studio was brightly lit with hanging lights; the wall directly across from them was lined with mirrors. A balance bar made of the same light colored wood as the floor stretched across it at perfect hand height.

Keith glanced at his reflection and made a quick effort to fix his hair. Why did he always look messy?

A young woman stood posed in front of the wall adjacent to the one they stared at, out of straight view of the doorway. Her silver hair was piled high into an elegant bun, aside from the small strand that fell against her dark skin. She wore white tights under a black long sleeved leotard, and with her leg stuck out in her pose, they could see her pink ballet shoes, laced to her ankles.

“Allura, I brought you something!” Keith called out over the sound of _Lacrimosa_ playing on the speaker system in the corner. Lance's quirked an eyebrow at the way he said “something” instead of someone.

_Is he gonna feed me to her?_

Allura's eyes opened, her concentration broken, but lit up all the same at the sound of Keith's voice.

“Keith, is that you?” she looked over her shoulder at them, lowering her leg from its stretch. Leaving her space on the bar, she sauntered over to them, pausing the music with the remote she held in her hand. She scanned Lance up and down. “So, this is the boy from your beautiful portraits?”

Lance felt himself shrink back a little. Despite her only coming to his shoulder, she gave off an aura of confidence unmatched by anything he could hope to have at any given time, giving her a taller, regal appearance. The hair helped, too.

“Yeah, I'm the guy from- from the pictures.” Lance stammered. His left leg started to shake. Maybe this was a mistake.

Keith gravitated closer to him. “Allura, this is Lance. He's going to be your student for the day.”

Lance nearly got whiplash from how hard he double-taked. “Student? Keith that's not what I agreed to,” he whispered, like Allura couldn't hear him.

“Relax, Lance.” She pronounced it like “Lonce”. She went over to her bag sitting against the plain white wall, and pulled out a pair of ballet shoes wrapped in black tights. Tossing them, Lance caught them with ease. “I promise this is all for fun. Besides, I sincerely doubt you could… _keep up_.”

His competitive urges were rising. “Is that a challenge, pretty lady?”

She smiled, and pointed to the door on the corner where the two mirrored walls met. “Go change, and we'll see.”

Keith watched Lance run his thumb across the top of the shoe, and wondered what he was thinking, right then, in that exact moment. Lance walked to the door and opened it to go into the locker room, closing the door behind him.

Keith watched the door worriedly. “Are you sure you know what you're doing? Lance is a different case, you know.”

Allura gave him a sympathetic smile. “Do you really doubt me, Keith?”

He sighed. “No.”

“He means a lot to you, I know. I'm not going to run him off. He's going to have a good time, I promise.”

“Thanks Allura. I just want to see him-”

“Happy?”

Keith smiled shyly, blushing light pink. “Yeah.”

She nodded, returning his smile. “Something tells me he already is.”

The door opened and Lance stepped out, donned in the black tights that came up past his waist. The shoes weren't the lace up kind, but looked like they fit perfectly anyway. Without his jacket, he seemed more broad, and together he looked very streamlined.

Keith tried to settle his gaze so that wouldn't be so obvious that he was totally checking Lance out.

It wasn't working.

Lance saw Keith's eyes wandering and pulled at his white tank top nervously. “What? Do I look stupid?” he studied himself in the mirror.

Keith coughed as Lance pulled the tights away from his crotch. “No, you look fine.”

Allura looked at Keith in a way that could be described as the way Spongebob looked at Squidward when he asked him about liking Krabby Patties. The whole thing was endearing.

“They fit the way they're supposed to. Now,” she walked over and dragged him to the middle of the wall, placing his hand on the bar. “Do you remember how to stretch?”

He scoffed. “Do I remember how to- of _course_ I remember how to stretch!” He grasped the bar tight and bounced on his heels. She watched him in an anticipation.

“I uh… start by…” He looked down at his feet. He moved them shoulder width apart. “I just…”

She leaned to whisper in his ear. “Try some floor stretches.”

“Riiiiiiiiiiiight.” He knew that.

Keith watched on with amusement. Despite Lance being obviously nervous, he seemed to be in his element. Keith thought to leave them to it. Maybe he could pick up something from Aroma and bring them back something.

He made his way to the door, and Lance looked up from his stretch to see him trying to leave.

“Hey, where are you going?” he asked.

“Oh, I was just- I was gonna go get something from Aroma.” Keith pointed to the door sheepishly.

“Don't leave m- us!” Lance said teasingly, but his eyes begged Keith to stay.

Keith never really felt so needed.

“Are you sure?” Keith didn't want to intrude on whatever Allura had planned, and who was he to take up their space?

Allura nodded. “I don't really need anything. Lance?”

“I don't want anything.”

“Well, I just don't want to...take up y'alls space.”

“Nonsense!” Allura pointed to the wall behind him. “There's plenty of room.”

Keith glanced at the door one last time. He wanted to give Lance his space, but it seemed like he was needed.

He walked over to the wall, and popped a squat next to Allura's bag, sitting criss crossed. Lance smiled, and Keith could swear he felt like he was squeezing his hand in a “thank you”.

Allura stood. “Right! Lance, step to the bar.”

“Yes ma’am.” Lance bowed, and Keith giggled. What a dork.

When Lance returned to the bar, Allura unpaused the music. She took a place across from him, holding onto the bar.

“Mimic my movements,” she told him, and he nodded.

She raised her knee to thigh level, pointing her toe inward. Lance mirrored her. She then held out her arm, curling it inward, then held it above her head, and he did the same.

They did a series of various ballet moments. Keith heard her say each one in French, but he would never remember that over the way Lance beamed, executing each move with a flourish. He really did miss it.

“I think you're ready.” Allura said, pulling him to the middle of the room.

“Ready for… what?”

“This.” She changed the song, to a dramatic piece with languid violin and dramatic piano, turning it up as high as it could go. The room filled with music, filling the space where they didn't.

Lance stared at her. “What-”

She stepped back from him. “Let the music move you!” she yelled. “Lose yourself in the rhythm!” She twirled on her toes, spinning around and around.

Keith watched on worriedly. What in tarnation was she thinking? Putting him on spot like that?

Lance looked like a deer about 0.02 seconds away from being hit, and Keith started to move out of his sitting position, but then Lance did something incredible.

He danced.

His movements were slight, and deliberate, and with each passing moment of the song his body moved more fluidly. There were moments where he moved with reckless abandon, like a wave crashing upon the shore.

He was letting go.

Allura smirked and changed the music to a waltz. Lance stopped mid spin and offered her his hand, and Keith felt the slightest twinge of jealousy. Allura shook her head at him and took his hand, and the lead.

“I could do this in my sleep,” boasted Lance, waltzing across the room with her.

“Is that a call for a challenge?”

She quirked a thin eyebrow, and something flashed in her eyes that jolted Lance at his core.

She pointed the remote and suddenly the room was full of trumpet fanfare. A swing-era song Keith recognised from a particular movie took Lance by the feet. He and Allura separated, and she mimicked the way swung out his legs and tapped his toes against the hardwood. He grabbed her open hand and they stepped in and out, perfectly in synch. With her other arm in the air, she changed the song again, to one that brought Lance back to images of home. To his mom, and her swishing hips under his tiny hands as he stood on her feet. His first salsa lesson.

“Really?” he said, pulling her by the hips. He grinned, not in a flirty way, but like he knew he had his chance to prove himself. In the best way possible.

Allura's playful smile dropped. He was in for it now.

He moved one hand to the middle of her back, between her shoulder blades, and with the other he linked his fingers with hers. They stepped, abrupt and precise, while her hips rolled, and he twirled her in quick spins. His body moved along with hers in a way that brought the jealous pang back to Keith's chest, but the look of pure adulation Lance wore made it worth it; after all, it was just a dance.

"Is that all you got, Princess?" he taunted, as the moved fluidly around the center of the room.

"Oh, Lance, they don't call me princess here."

Her upper lip twisted in a teeth-baring smirk, and she switched her footing, confusing Lance and allowing him to lose his lead.

"They call me queen.”

She spun him. And spun him. And spun him, until she reeled him in and he fell into her hooked arm. A classic dip.

The music stopped, and while he panted, she hadn't even broken a sweat.

Keith searched his wide eyed gaze for something… anything… The room was so quiet he could hear the beat of each individual breath, and Keith thought maybe something was wrong again until...

He laughed.

It was a deep, earthy sounding chuckle. Like it came from pits of his ethereal being.

Allura nearly dropped him in surprise but Lance couldn't even tell, his torso was shaking so much. It wasn't until he stood and pulled her into a hug that both Keith and Allura let out a breath they knew they were holding.

“Thank you. So much,” he told Allura softly into her shoulder.

She smiled, patting his back gently. “You know, I don't need the studio for the full two hours _every_ day.”

He looked down at her in surprise, and she kept going, smile growing wider.

“If you ever… _needed_ a place to practice, I wouldn't mind lending you the studio. As long as you don't trash the place.”

Lance blinked once… twice… then wrapped her in a bear hug.

“Oof!”

Keith snickered, and she sent him a death glare from her compromised position. After Lance broke the hug, they discussed the matter of schedule, and settled for two days a week. Keith couldn't believe that it was actually happening. Lance was getting the chance to dance again. And he helped him.

Oh, there were so many feelings.

Once Lance went to change, Allura pulled Keith to the side.

“So? What do you think?” she asked him.

“I think… I owe you eggs Benedict at Sally’s next Sunday.”

Allura clapped her hands gleefully. “I told you I had it covered. He just needed a little confidence is all.”

Keith nodded. “Well, I'm glad I had you.. er, handy. You know I have two left feet.”

“Nonsense.” She poked him in the ribs. “I bet I could get those left feet to do a mean box step.” She grabbed him by the wrist and spun him once, making him laugh.

“Alright, alright.” He skirted away from her.

“Or maybe Lance could teach you? I'm sure he offers the proper _motivation_.”

“God, Allura, don't be gross!” he scoffed.

Lance stepped out of the changing room, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He carried his jacket under his arm, and Keith watched a singular bead of sweat run down his neck to his shiny chest.

Allura heard Keith gasp sharply. Keith turned, slapping his hand over his mouth.

Lance strolled over to them. “Hey, what are you two birds tweeting about?”

Keith quickly dropped his hand, and with one glance at Allura, they both dissolved into a fit of giggles.

Lance's eyes traveled to his own hairline. “What? Is my hair crazy?” He ran a hand through it again, making them laugh harder.

“No, no, Allura and I were just… Talking about Shiro. Your hair is fine,” said Keith after he caught his breath.

“Yes, you're fine, Lance.” Allura agreed, holding back her laughter. “It was really nice to finally meet you.”

She held out her hand, and Lance shook it vigorously.

“Likewise.”

“I hope to see you soon.” She gave Keith once last look, a look that made Keith smile. “You too, Keith.”

“Bye Allura. Thanks again.”

“Any time.” She waited until Lance was on his way out the door to wink at Keith, and he snickered softly, following him out.

“Keep the tights!” she called out to them.

 

A crisp breeze picked up outside as they left the dance building, prompting Lance to wear his jacket. Keith watched Lance carefully rewrap his tights around the pink ballet shoes, holding them close to his chest while they walked to the main street.

“So, how do you feel?” Keith asked, feeling that familiar nervousness now that they were alone.

“I feel… like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders,” he sighed happily. “This… doesn't even feel real but it feels… _right_ , ya know?”

 _Of course I do_.

“So are you gonna take up her offer?” Keith watched him hop up on the cement wall that held in a little garden along the sidewalk of the campus.

Lance balanced carefully, walking down the small strip about a couple feet from the ground. “Well… I wasn't expecting it to be more that just… A day.”

Keith's shoulders drooped. “Oh. Right.”

“ _But_ …” Keith perked up again. “I can't say no to something like that, can I?”

“Oh, you're gonna feel so great. It will get your mind off everything.”

Lance hopped down, since the wall ended and they were now a crosswalk.

“Yeah. And it wouldn't have been possible without you.”

“Oh, well, it was the least I could do after Texas.”

“Pssssh, that was no big deal.” Lance ran a thumb nervously over the one of the shoes. “Did you, um, have plans for the rest of the night?”

“I have an appointment with my paint easel and then my bed. Why?” Keith didn't exactly _want_ to go back to his dorm, but this oil painting class was kicking his ass and he needed all the extra time to finish an assignment due that week.

“Well, there's this place downtown I've been wanting to try… did you want to grab dinner with me?” There was a hopefully look in Lance's eyes that Keith didn't even know he was putting out.

“I wish I could, but this painting is killing me and I have to finish it so I have time for other projects.” Keith offered an apologetic shrug. “Maybe another day? I promise.”

Lance smiled halfheartedly. “Sure Keith. Get going. Da Vinci didn't paint the Mona Lisa in a day.”

“Actually, a portrait usually takes-”

“Keith.”

Keith stopped.

“It was a joke. Art humor.”

“Oh! Right!” It was pretty cute that Lance tried to be an art intellectual around Keith. It showed him how much Lance paid attention to him. “Well, I'll see you soon. Have fun with dinner.”

“I'll try.” Lance watched Keith walk back toward his dorm, waving sadly.

He waited until Keith was far enough away, before he crossed the street, walked past Aroma, and turned, taking a shortcut to his dorm.

 

Graphic design class wasn't really Keith's favorite. Despite the free Photoshop they had available for the next few months, there wasn't really much to do to occupy his mind during class. So he mostly doodled.

Plants. Animals. _Lance's face_.

The sharp planes of his features were his favorite to sketch out. They were just… perfect.

In an artistic sense, of course.

Trying to pay attention to what the professor was saying about fading text and images was pretty much futile, since Keith was engrossed in surrounding one of Lance's smiling faces in little black hearts.

A girl in a pale sweater and green headphones glanced over at Keith, who was still completely distracted. She pushed back a section of straw colored hair to get a better view of the lovestruck look and small doodles from the corner of her eye. She wondered how the guy, who she had seen once or twice around campus, knew Lance, let alone why he sketched his face with such… love.

Without much movement, she opened a messenger on her computer and shot Lance a message.

Keith felt his phone vibrate quietly in his pocket, and after glancing up at his professor to see if he was looking, pulled out his phone under the desk.

 

 **Leandro <3:** _thinking about me? :P_

 

Keith looked around, panicked that maybe someone saw his doodles and recognized Lance. He slowly closed his sketchbook and resigned to actually following the professor's instructions.

 

_Interesting._

 

 

January came and went, and soon it was about halfway into February. Keith came back from class to find Shiro cooking. In dress clothes.

“Shiro, it's not my birthday,” Keith joked. “What's with the getup?”

Shiro looked over at him, puzzled. “Didn't I tell you?”

“No. Probably not. Tell me again.”

“It's a pretty important day for me and Allura, and I need the dorm for a few hours until we go out to Bizal’s tonight. I thought we talked about this last week?”

“Was I painting?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Then no. I wasn't actually paying attention.”

Shiro sighed. “Jesus. Okay, well… do you think you could make yourself scarce for a few hours?”

“Where do you need me to go?” This wasn't the first time. Wouldn't be the last either.

“Anywhere. There's stuff at the park today. You should call up Lance and go th-”

“Lance?” he interrupted.

“Yeah. If he's not doing anything. Unless you want to be alone today.”

Shiro kept saying “today” like it was a special day or something. Keith didn't understand it.

“Whatever. I'll call him.” He tried to come off as nonchalant but that would be the first time he and Lance would hang out alone in weeks and Keith was rightly nervous.

Seeing as he had made no effort to keep his promise with his sister.

“ _Thank you_. Here.” Shiro pulled out a twenty from a black leather wallet in his pocket. “Make a day of it.” He reached out to hand it to him and Keith looked at him like he was crazy.

“Shiro, you're a good roommate, I don't need a bribe.”

Shiro shook his hand. “Take it.” He thrusted the bill into his hands. “You should have good time.”

Keith blushed. Shiro was basically telling him to take Lance on a date. He didn't know the first thing about that.

Or how to ask.

“Okay. I'll see if he's available.”

“Jeez Keith. He's not a director of the board,” Shiro chuckled, searing the steak he was grilling on its side. “Just call the guy.”

“ _Okay!_ Okay!” Keith pulled out his phone, but hesitated.

Shiro looked at the way he pressed his lips together, in a doubtful pout.

“The bathroom is open.”

Keith glanced over at the door that was slightly ajar, then to Shiro, then back to the door.

Shiro nodded encouragingly, and it didn't take long for Keith to rush in, turning on the light and shutting it forcefully behind him.

Shaking his head in amusement, Shiro turned back to his cooking, wearing a proud smile.

 

“Are you sure you don't need a third wheel? I can do dessert. I make a mean pie,” Keith rambled desperately.

He was trying to stall. Like bad Honda Civic, he was succeeding.

“What kind of pie?” asked Shiro, buying into his own curiosity.

“Any kind. I'm southern. We're known for that kind of thing.”

Shiro seemed to contemplate this prospect, but thankfully sanity got a hold of him.

“Listen. Allura? Has been _working out_. She's finally wearing a sundress so I am _not_ missing out on seeing those beautifully toned arms _by_ _myself_.”

“Shiro I will never understand you. Nor do I really want to.”

“Well. I respect that. But _you_ need to go. You don't want Lance to think you're a flake, do you?” he asked, making Keith cringe at the word “flake.”

“No. That wouldn't look good.”

“Then go. Meet yo man.”

_Please don't ever say that again._

Keith picked over his appearance, adjusting his forest green shirt for like the third time in ten minutes. “Are you sure I look okay?”

Shiro gave him one last once-over. “You look great. But maybe bring a hair tie. In case it warms up.”

Keith grabbed the black hair tie from the sink and snapped it on his wrist.

“You're good. Now get going, ya scamp.”

If Keith wasn't so nervous, he would have groaned at Shiro's horrible bro-speak.

“Alright. I'm going. Tell Allura I said hi.” Keith finally made his way to the door.

“I will! See ya later.”

Keith took one step out before turning back to face Shiro with narrow eyes.

“Make sure you clean your mess.” Keith told him in an ominous tone.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Shiro turned beet red.

Keith wasn't talking about the food.

 

Finding the park was easy enough. Now he just had to wait for Lance.

He hoped that the dancing was going well. Allura has told him that Lance seemed to be enjoying the time he really got to be himself. Not that he wasn't himself already. Just… _more_ himself. If that made sense.

And that made Keith very happy.

The rustling of the Spanish moss against the leaves of the trees served as a distraction from the heavy thoughts on his mind. Even if Keith knew anything about dating someone that was his own organic knowledge and not the various plots of romantic comedies, he still couldn't bring himself to actually utter the words “let's date”. He was a mess in washing machine of emotion, constantly tumbling over himself.

While Keith watched the trees, Lance took the opportunity to sneak over to him, tapping him lightly on the shoulder.

“Order for one companion, Cuban male wearing yellow?” Lance asked, as if he was delivering and not… the delivery.

“You're five minutes late,” observed Keith, checking his skin watch. “Does that mean you're free?”

“I'm always free.” _For you_.

“Well, what excellent service,” he joked. Keith was really hamming it up.

Lance pulled at the collar of his shirt with both hands. “Five star product,” he bragged, making Keith snort.

_What a dork._

_What a cute laugh._

“So,” Keith looked over at the wide expanse of grass and pathway. “I know nothing about this park.”

“Well, that's why I'm here! Come on!” Lance stepped past the archway, pulling a slightly flustered Keith along with him. After a few feet past the entrance, they walked normal, albeit a bit close, keeping to the right to allow people to pass them.

“So if you don't know anything about about this park, why did we meet here?” asked Lance, keeping in steady stride with Keith.

“Shiro suggested it. Besides, it's nice out.” _Because Shiro had to pick the most romantic place._

“Hmmm, sounds like Shiro just wanted you far away.”

Keith laughed. “Yeah, that too. What can I say? The man needs his privacy.”

“I'll say. But I'm glad you called me. I got to miss out on Hunk's mushy Skype call to Shay,” said Lance, miming sticking a finger down his throat.

He laughed again at Lance's disgust. “Okay, it's probably not my business, but who's Shay?” Keith heard that name more than enough to know that he should ask who the heck she was.

“Oh man, I never did tell you about Shay. Okay, so last year there was an exchange student from Kenya named Shay and she was in Hunk's engineering class for a semester. Boy, was he smitten. The girl was a genius and stunning, too. He took her on a date about a month before she got to go back to her university and they agreed they could handle a long distance relationship. I'm proud of the guy. I never thought I'd see him give a girl the time of day. But hey, love does that to someone.”

“You think it's love?” Keith asked. He didn't mean for that to sound rude, but he was always skeptical of distant love.

“Oh, no doubt about it. He doesn't know that I know that he plans on visiting her for spring break, and that boy has never traveled past Florida, let alone to another country. That's love if I've ever seen it.”

_He would travel for her… huh._

Keith wondered if that was a common theme for love.

“Well, that's sweet. I hope that works out for him-” Keith's attention dramatically shifted to something he saw a few yards away. “Is that-?”

“Is that what?” Lance followed Keith's line of vision to an ice cream cart, where a friendly man in white gave out ice cream to a couple of women holding hands.

Keith didn't even answer, he just took off.

“Keith wait!” Lance shot after him, catching him by the hand after getting close. “It's just ice cream.”

Both took note that they were now _holding_ _hands_ , but Keith was too busy shaking with excitement over the ice cream cart.

“Why'd you run off like that?” Lance asked him, panting. He still held on to Keith's hand, even though the rest of his body was in a state of _?????_

“Sorry, Lance, I've just never seen one in person!” he exclaimed, pointing to the carts sign.

“You've never seen… an ice cream cart?” Lance quirked an eyebrow skeptically.

“I don't exactly live near a city park, Lance.”

That was true. Keith considered the farm to be where he called, fondly, Bum Fuck Nowhere.

“I've only seen these in movies and shows. It's so cool to see one up close.”

 _How actually freaking adorable,_ thought Lance, watching Keith look over the cart with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Ya know, the ice cream is just as good as the cart it comes in,” said the man in white, his voice surprisingly gruff, but still jovial.

Keith perked up. “Do you want ice cream?” he asked.

“Sure.” How could he say no to that face?

“Well, we have mint chocolate, old fashioned chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, and pistachio,” the man listed them off one by one.

“I'll take a double scoop of mint chocolate.” Keith pronounced “chocolate” with a little twang that made Lance smile.

He turned to Lance expectantly, and Lance snapped back into reality.

“Oh. Um. One scoop strawberry and one scoop pistachio.”

Keith broke the hand hold to grab his wallet while the man served out their ice cream in waffle cones. He handed them out to Lance while Keith paid with the twenty Shiro gave to him. At least he was putting it to use.

“Thank you!” said Keith after receiving his change. The man just smiled.

Lance gave Keith his cone, and reached out hesitantly for Keith's other hand as they walked away. He managed to hook a couple fingers, this time with Keith noticing.

“Uh, don't need you running off went it's my job to keep you company,” he explained.

Keith blushed into his ice cream. “Excellent service,” was all he could utter, making Lance grin, shying away.

They ate in silence, observing the park. Keith seemed to count a rather odd amount of couples out today, whether they were walking, sitting in the grass, playing music.

A couple guys in particular stood out to him, as one sort of watched Keith and Lance. Keith didn't know how to feel until the guy's gaze traveled to their linked hands, and he smiled, pulling his partner close. Keith waved shyly, and the man waved back. His partner smiled, daring to press a kiss to his cheek.

 _There's so many people_ together _here_ …

“Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“Is there an event today or something? There's so many couples around.”

Lance took notice of Keith confused look and eyed him. “Don't you know what day it is?”

“Well… I know it's a Wednesday,” he admitted, shrugging.

_He doesn't know._

Keith was completely clueless and Lance could feel his heart being crushed.

“Well… it's…”

 _Should I tell him_?

“It's… the warmest day in February!” Lance exclaimed. “Well, so far. I'm sure people are just out to enjoy the weather.”

With that, he unhooked him fingers from Keith's. It didn't feel right now.

Keith took that as an acceptable answer, chomping down on his ice cream. Lance couldn’t help but smile. Still, he sighed internally.

They reached the end of the park. A large white fountain sat in a fenced off half circle of pavement, surrounded by benches.

“Wanna sit?” Lance asked. Keith nodded, and they went to sit on the nearest bench. The wood creaked under them as they sat, but it bothered neither of them. It was just a sign of age.

“Can I ask you something?” Lance started, staring out at the fountain where carved white fish sporadically spat water into the basin.

“Sure.” Keith felt his heart speed up like treadmill on cardio mode.

“How do feel about your accent?”

That wasn't what Keith expected.

“My southern accent?”

“No, your Indian accent.”

Keith nudged him with his cone. “Alrighty, smart ass.” He looked out at the fountain, really thinking about an answer.

“I don't really like it.”

“Why?” Lance questioned.

“I mean… I don't like sounding like a hick.”

“First of all. You're not a hick. Second, there's nothing wrong with it. Or your euphemisms.”

Keith frowned. “I don't know, I just think about it in a professional sense. Would you want to buy a painting from a guy that sounds like Larry the Cable Guy?”

“Larry the Cable Guy is a fake hick.”

“Whatever. It just doesn't seem to fit me.”

“Well of course it does, or you wouldn't have it. You're an artist from _Texas_. That's kinda your thing, buddy.”

Keith rolled his eyes.

Lance leaned back again the bench. “You know what my dad says?”

He turned to face him, eyebrows raised.

“He says… ‘if they can't understand you, they don't deserve to hear what you have to say’. Sailed through medical school on that philosophy.”

Keith just looked at him.

“What I'm saying is, don't change for people. Don't try be less of yourself for the sake of looking good. Or, well… sounding good.”

He didn't know what to say. The accent thing wasn't something he thought much of since he had been hiding it since freshmen year.

“Besides, it's cute.”

With the way Keith's head whipped around so fast, there should have been a crack in the air.

“You didn't hear that from me though,” said Lance, grinning.

Keith smiled. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome.” Lance gave the moment some time to hang in the air before diving into a more normal conversation. “So, what do think Shiro and Allura are up to?”

“Fucking,” said Keith almost too nonchalantly.

Lance nearly broke his cone. “ _Keith!”_

“What? It seems like the only thing they do. Or the only thing I'm really aware of. They're both adults, Lance.”

“I know but still!” Lance blushed, not wanting to think about that image.

Keith chuckled. “I'll never understand it.”

“What? Sex?”

“Yeah. Why do they do it so much?”

"I'm sure sometimes they go out for milkshakes and can't fuck because of gastrointestinal issues,” said Lance.

Keith snorted. “No, that's not what I meant. I mean… people in general are just obsessed with sex. Doesn't that seem weird to you?”

“Sometimes. But the prospect seems nice.”

“I guess when you're ace it's kind of different,” Keith admitted, not exactly realizing the huge bomb he just dropped until he saw Lance's wide eyed look.

“I mean… uh…”

“Keith?”

“I’ve never said that out loud before.”

Lance placed a hand on Keith's thigh. “Well. How do you feel?”

“Oddly… Lighter? Like I just told a secret. But it wasn't really a secret....” he trailed off.

“Is that why you don't like talking about dating?” Lance it put together.

“Well, yeah. How is embarrassing is it to talk about about that when you have no experience at all? I don't even like… _jacking off_ ,” he whispered in a horrified voice.

Lance scanned him. “Can I tell you something?”

“Sure.”

Lance looked back to the fountain. “I've never had sex.”

Keith's face scrunched in confusion. “Huh?”

Lance pointed to his chest. “Me? Big ole virgin.”

“But… you're _you_ .” _Attractive. Adorable. Talented. Smart._

Lance laughed, tilting his head to the side and turning back to him. “Being _me_ doesn't mean I have to accept every genital a person throws my way. I'm pretty old fashioned. I'm saving that time for someone that really matters.”

It took Lance all he had not to squeeze Keith's thigh.

“Unless they don't want it. It is sort of just expected from everyone. I think of sex like a step. Obviously I'm extremely picky about who reaches it. But some people aren't and that's okay too. Who ever you want to date you should understand that it's one that you might have to skip. It's easier now than in high school, for sure.”

_Sounds like he's got it pretty down packed._

“I don't know, dude. I'm pretty picky about the guys I want to date,” said Keith teasingly.

“You should enlighten me on what your type is sometime, cowboy,” Lance quipped, elbowing him gently.

 _One day Astro Boy_.

“Come on.” Keith jumped up from his spot on the bench. “We're not done. There's things to see.”

He held out his hand in the one act of bravery he could manage.

Lance glanced between Keith's hand and his face. Keith watched Lance expectantly, waiting. Lance stood, sauntered over to him, and placed his hand firmly over Keith's. Before he lost his nerve.

“Let's go.”

 

Keith's curiosity got the best of him.

“Lance?”

“What's up?”

“What did that strawberry pistachio mix taste like?”

Lance thought about it. “Ya know… kind of like… a cold earthy peanut butter and jelly.”

“Mmmmm… that's appetizing.” Keith would definitely stick to mint chocolate. Even though certain people had strong feelings about it.

 _Cough_ **Shiro** _cough_.

“Right? I call it Nut Berry.”

“Gross.”

They were coming up on a weathered flower cart, run by a woman in a floral print dress. All of the bouquets looked so wonderfully put together, and a particular arrangement of lilies drew Keith over to them.

“These are beautiful,” he said softly, eyeing them in wonder.

Lance hovered behind him.

"I never understood why boys aren't the ones to get flowers. I mean, we appreciate pretty things, too. It's a travesty." He said, watching the way Keith moved around to each arrangement.

"Because we're supposed to be about wood chopping smells and watches and gross whiskey,” he replied,  moving back to the lilies.

"Oh yes, I love smelling like I just walked out the woods." He noticed that Keith took an interest in those the most. “Do you want them?”

“Oh no, I couldn't.”

“Are you sure?”

Keith looked over to them. It had been awhile since he bought flowers for himself to draw. The last time was back in Texas, when he bought a lavender bushel from his neighbor.

And lilies were his _favorite_ …

“No, it's okay, I don't have enough anyway.” Keith gave the woman a sad smile. “Your flowers are lovely.”

He started to walk away, expecting Lance to follow him, but he didn't get more than a few feet away before her the distinct ding of a cash register.

He turned to see Lance holding the bouquet in lavender gift paper. She gave him his change and he thanked her, quickly catching up to Keith.

“Lance…”

“What? You bought me ice cream. I figured I could return the favor,” he explained, handing over the flowers in the crinkly paper. Keith took them carefully, holding them up to his nose.

The earthy smell was heavenly.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

The moment was cut by the sound of Keith's phone ringing from his back pocket.

He shifted the bouquet so he could cradle it in one arm, like a baby, while he reached for his phone.

“Oh, it's Shiro.” He scanned the messages to see what he wanted.

“What did he say?”

“He said: ‘Allura and I are at Bizaal’s. Dorm clean. Will be back later.’ Thank god. I have this painting and two anatomy studies and-” he watched Lance's brows shoot higher and higher.

“Not that, you know, I'm _not_ having fun out here. With you.”

Lance snickered. “Keith. It's fine. Art takes sacrifices and all that,” he waved his hand in a blasé motion.

Keith sighed. “Yeah. You could say that.”

“I had fun today. It was nice,” he told him.

“Yeah. It was.” Keith grinned.

Lance gestured to the exit. “Shall I walk you home?”

“I'd be honored.”

 

They reached Keith's building it good time. The sun was just starting to set, so they technically beat nightfall. The only bad thing about “winter” in Florida: the sun still set early.

“Are you gonna be okay going home?” Keith asked. They both stood in front of the doorway, not all that quick to leave.

“Yeeeeaaaaah, I'll be fine. Did you enjoy your first real park experience?”

Keith hoped that he couldn't see that he was blushing, recalling all the wonderfulness of the day.

“Yeah. It was amazing.”

Lance wanted close the gap between them, with a kiss, or even a tight hug, but either option felt like he would be taking advantage of the moment.

_Not today, Lancey Lance._

“I'm glad you had fun. It was pleasure being of service.” He bowed, closing his eyes.

Keith giggled. He moved quickly, pulling a flower from the bouquet and tucked it behind his ear, right in his hair.

Lance's face twisted momentarily. He reached up to feel the foreign object in his hair. He opened his eyes and saw the flower in his reflection on the glass.

“You were right. Guys deserve more flowers.”

The devious glint in his eye left Lance momentarily speechless.

How the tables turned.

“I'll see you soon,” he waved, opening the door.

“See ya.” Lance watched Keith turn the corner, peering once more at his reflection.

The flower looked cute.

He snapped off a good two-thirds of the stem, so the single lily fit securely on his ear. Lance walked away from Keith's with a little more spring in his step, whistling his whole way home.

 

Shiro came back a few hours later to Keith at his easel, sketching the flowers that sat in a giant glass Star Wars collectible mug.

“Hey!” Keith greeted him, not even turning around. “How was the bar with Allura?”

“Fun. A little more empty than I expected but all the more room for us.” Shiro's gaze beelined for the flowers on their coffee table. “Where’d you get those?”

Keith turned back to see Shiro pointing at the lilies. “Oh.” He faced his sketch. “Lance got them for me from this lady the park.”

“He got you _flowers_?” Shiro's voice hitched.

“Not like that!” Keith pouted, turning back abruptly. “He saw that I was taking an artistic interest in them.”

“Artistic interest. _Okay._ ”

“Besides, he was paying me back for the ice cream we had.”

“Oh good, you actually did something.”

“Yeah, and your change is on the table.” He gestured to the crumpled bills with his pencil.

“I'm not worried about that. Also, is that my glass?” he asked.

“Yeah. None of mine were big enough.”

Shiro gawked at him. “Nevermind. How on _earth_ could you go out on the most romantic day of the year and not make a move?”

“What are you talking about?” Keith scoffed.

Shiro laughed, but the look on Keith's made him stop mid-chuckle.

“Oh. You're serious.”

“Well _yeah_ I'm serious.”

Shiro put his hands together, almost in prayer. “Keith. Have you checked the date today?”

“Yeah, it's Wednesday.”

A short breath escaped Shiro's nose. “No, I mean like the actual date.”

Keith raised an eyebrow at him. “No I don't think so.”

“Take out your phone.”

Not sure what Shiro was getting at, he pulled out his phone.

“Now _read the date_.”

Keith pressed his home button, showing himself the lock screen that had the date and time, in a little widget above his passcode.

_Wednesday, February 14th._

Shiro watched as the gears turned in Keith's brain. Suddenly they clicked.

February 14th.

 

It was Valentine's Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR BEING SO PATIENT I LOVE YOU GUYS.
> 
> mr-mustache-penis.tumblr.com


	6. Baby, You're A Good Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Valentine's Day Disaster, Keith tries to work up the courage to tell Lance his feelings, but after a convoluted plan goes wrong it seems that neither of them are going to get that chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. Holy shit. After 4 months I'm finally back with my longest update yet. I wish I could give a better excuse for why it took so long but life really bit me in the ass. I was dumped recently and I've been dealing with work drama and it really drained my motivation but I've grown from it and I'm glad I could come back to this story. I hope that the wait was worth it <3
> 
> SONGS:
> 
> "Unforgettable"- Sia  
> "Turn Me On"- Kevin Lyttle  
> "Good Time" - Alan Jackson
> 
> By the way I changed Lance's middle name. In case anyone was confused.

Keith left Aroma with coffee in one hand, and a bag of mini muffins delicately placed in his satchel. He planned on visiting Lance at the dance studio, which seemed like a sweet idea, considering the _disaster_ that happened last week…

 

"So what you're telling me, is you fell slowly, then all at once?"

"I don't need your John Green bullshit right now Shiro!" Keith yelled, stuffing his face in his pillow to avoid eye contact with the man who still thought that quote from 2013 was “deep”.

“Hey, I'm just trying to understand what you problem is,” he said, defensively crossing his arms.

Keith's head shot up. “My problem, is that everything's happening so fast and I feel like I have no room to breathe.”

Shiro's scowl slowly fell into a more sympathetic frown. He stepped from the kitchen and into Keith's side of the dorm. He moved cautiously, placing a hand on the edge of Keith's bed. Keith nodded curtly, and Shiro sat.

“Tell me what's up.”

Keith sighed. He hadn't told Shiro what happened over break, so he figured he'd start there.

“Shiro I was adopted while we were gone.” Keith could see his eyes widen, and it didn't surprise him.

“You mean… Before… You didn't have a family?”

“Yes. I mean no. I had a family but it wasn't… I lived in an orphanage, on a farm, so I guess you could call it unorthodox.”

Shiro listened carefully. “Go on.”

“But like that… And even before, with my art getting picked for Coran’s class… So many things changed ever since I ran into Lance on that boardwalk.”

“Does that change scare you?”

Keith blinked. He really didn't know. As someone who lived a notoriously monotonous life, what was the real answer?

“I think I'm grateful for it. But now I have all these feelings and it's all happening so fast and I'm just... awestruck by everything he does." Keith took a breath. “He's like this… light I never knew I needed and I don't know how I'm ever going to measure up to that. What do I have to offer?” he asked himself, and Shiro, and the universe.

“Well, I think you're being a little tough on yourself,” Shiro answered. “You have plenty of love for him, and with what Allura told me… you care about him, and his happiness, just like he cares for yours.”

Keith laughed. “You think so?”

“Buddy I wouldn't even set _foot_ in Texas, let alone drive sixteen hours there. No offense.”

“None taken.”

Shiro smiled. “I think you're more focused on what he might not feel, than what he probably does feel. You get me?”

“Yeah but-”

“No buts. Listen. I know you need your time to breathe, and let everything catch up to you. But you should also give yourself time to think about how you're gonna tell him.”

Keith felt his gaze being pulled to the flowers still sitting in their makeshift vase, and there it was. The warm, soothing feeling.

“I think I can do that.”

 

The hallway to the studio was freezing, but the difference in warmth when Keith finally stepped inside was tremendous. Loud hip hop played over the speaker, drowning out any sound of Keith stepping inside and closing the door, so he shrugged off his jacket and moved to the back wall, waiting until the song ended to get Lance's attention.

Fortunately, it didn't take that long.

Lance spotted Keith in the mirror mid-foot movement, stopping on a dime, not really caring about the music.

“Hey!” he exclaimed with a wide grin. Keith felt a smile creep its way on his lips; at this point, it was a reflex.

Lance crossed the room and surprised Keith with a hug. “What are you doing here?” he asked, pulling the remote from his jeans and pausing the music.

Keith tried his best not to absolutely melt under his touch. “Ya know, just seeing what y'all are up to.”

“Well, Allura just left… Is that the only reason?” Lance pouted.

Trying (and failing) to hide his guilty grin, he pulled out the carefully packed bag of mini muffins. Lance's eyes lit up with hunger.

“Oh my god Keith you're an angel,” he gushed, grabbing the bag.

“Noooooo, I just figured you didn't eat anything yet,” he told him bashfully.

“Well, yeah, not since this morning.” He spent no time waiting and stuffed one into his mouth.

“You really oughta get some energy bars or something. Shiro swears by them.”

“He also swears by salmonella with the way he eats raw eggs once a week.”

Keith shuddered in agreement.

“Well, I'm glad I'm here,” he said. “So, what are you practicing?”

Lance stuffed one more muffin into his mouth and chewed vigorously. “Just some hip hop stuff.” He reached for the remote and skipped to the next song.

Keith immediately recognized the song that filled the perverse thoughts of woman over forty along with the image of a shirtless Channing Tatum, and recoiled.

“ _Really Lance?_ ” Keith squeaked. He didn't _hate_ those movies, but after his sister fawned over the bulges and v-lines, he never wanted to be reminded of those movies again.

“Don't worry, I'll save myself the embarrassment of floor grinding,” said Lance.

 _Zoinks_.

Keith opted to sit down next to his jacket, taking off his bag and setting it on top of the red fabric. He watched as Lance rolled his body to the raunchy beat. It was almost fascinating how he was able to sync his movement to what Keith loosely called music. As Lance switched from body rolls to ticking his hips, Keith couldn't help but admire the fluidity of his body.

“How do you do that?” he blurted.

Lance stopped all movement. “What?”

“That… _thing_ you were just doing. With your hips.”

Lance looked down at his pelvis. “Oh, you mean this?” He ticked his hips slowly, almost rolling them.

Keith blushed at the sudden strip of skin being exposed by the movement that lifted shirt. “Yeah. That.”

“Come here and I'll show you. It's pretty easy.” Lance waved him over but Keith kept his butt firmly planted on the wooden floor.

“Nope. Nuh uh. I don't dance.” Keith was really more concerned about the closeness that would be inevitable, but he still made the excuse. “Two left feet.”

Lance sauntered over to him. “If you really had two left feet, you'd be a medical mystery.” He grabbed Keith and hoisted him up with ease.

“Laaaaance,” he groaned.

“Nope. You peer pressured me and now it's my turn,” he said, guiding Keith back to the middle of the floor.

“Was it really peer pressure though? I mean you didn't seem to mind it all that much…” Keith babbled, trying (and failing) to escape Lance's grip.

“All your talking isn't gonna help you now,” Lance told him, almost evilly.

_Shit._

He moved Keith so that he was facing the mirror, and on instinct, Keith fixed his hair.

“Do you see yourself clearly?” asked Lance.

Keith squinted. “I don't know man, I think I might need glasses. Is this my arm?” he pointed to his leg, trying to hold back a smile.

“You're hilarious. Okay, watch me first.” Lance's reflection raised the bottom of his shirt so Keith had a better view of his hips. He raised the one side, then lowered it, raising the other slowly.

“You see that? Now you try.”

Unlike Lance, Keith kept his shirt down, and tried his best to mimic the movement. Instead of a tight movement, it looked more like Keith was bringing it around town.

Lance bit back a laugh. “No no. You're swinging your lower body around. Here.” Lance crept up behind him and placed his hands on Keith's hips, resting his thumbs on the waistline of his jeans.

“Raise this side,” he told him, squeezing his right hip.

Keith swallowed. That was the most intimate form of touch he experienced since Gammaw changed his diapers.

Keith attemped to raise his hip, but he rotated his lower body again.

Lance laughed, and his hot breath tickled Keith's neck.

“You look like a penguin.” Keith scowled, but was quickly distracted by Lance's hand pushing lightly on on his left hip. “It's very stationary. Just lower your left and raise your right and switch. Keep your legs still.”

Keith took a deep breath and tried to do as Lance said. It worked; Keith was able to raise his right hip, but the sudden skin to skin contact of Lance's thumb slipping under the waistband of his boxers caused him to leap away. Even though he knew it was an accident.

“Nope, nope, I'm okay. It's not my thing,” said Keith hurriedly. Lance shrank away, wondering if maybe he did something wrong. He racked his brain to find a way to fix this before he felt like an absolute spaz.

“Well, no wonder!” Lance suddenly exclaimed. Keith cocked his head. “I haven't taught you the basics.”

_Basics?_

“How can I expect you to learn hip movements when you haven't even practiced with your feet?”

That sounded more ominous than Keith cared for, but he still watched on as Lance jogged over to the speaker where his phone was plugged in and changed the song to something more slow.

“I present to you the first of many McClain dance lessons: the slow dance.” He bowed dramatically.

“ _Lance-_ ”

“It's the Ritz Crackers of dance, Keith.” Lance jogged back over and grabbed him by the hand, pulling him reasonably (but not uncomfortably) close.

“Stale? Overused at parties?”

“Yes and yes. Now, place your hand on my shoulder.”

Despite wanting to nervously grip Lance like some type of terrified bird, he rested his left hand on his shoulder. Lance, in turn, placed his hand on Keith's side more than on his waist.

“Is this okay?” asked Lance, casting a lure into the pools of Keith’s eyes with his own unwavering eye contact.

Keith could say he was very _drawn_ to him.

“It's fine.” The swelling violin died into the vocals, a nasally female voice uttering just a few words.

“ _Unforgettable. That's what you are…”_

Keith quirked an eyebrow at the choice of song Lance played. “Isn't this the song from _Finding Dory_?”

Lance's playful smile dropped. “Actually this song is a classic that Sia just happened to make better.”

He didn't tell Keith that the original was his parent's wedding song, but that seemed like such an _unnecessary_ detail anyway.

_“Unforgettable… though near or far…”_

Lance felt his palms begin to sweat, and it took so much willpower not to snatch them back and wipe them furiously on his own jeans. He had never been this nervous around another person.

“Okay, so look down at your feet and um- look down and just-”

Keith looked down at his feet that were parallel to Lance's and concentrated hard, preparing himself go the next step and simultaneously keeping all the blood from rushing to his face. How was he ever going to just speak up and say it?

“We're gonna start moving back and forth okay? Can you handle that?”

Keith knew he was trying to take it slow but… _really_?

“Ritz Crackers, Lance,” he said, finally looking up and meeting still the bluest eyes he had ever seen.

They waited for the next beat, and stepped in unison. Small steps. Like clockwork.

“Now if you want to get fancy with it we could double step or make our strides wider. Right now we're dancing like the last couple on the dance floor at prom.”

“You know, I never went to prom,” Keith admitted.

Lance smirked. “That doesn't really surprise me.”

He shrugged. “Dancing with pretty girls wasn't exactly my thing. Besides, Texan proms are _so extra_.”

“Oh ho ho, no. _Floridian_ proms are extra,” corrected Lance with look that was a mix of knowing disgust and slight horror. He had seen some things.

_“Like a song of love that clings to me…”_

Keith snorted and Lance watched with a small smile. How did they end up like this?

“I'm gonna spin you now. You okay with that?” Keith nodded enthusiastically and the broke apart, only so Lance could turn him slowly and they rejoined, admittedly closer than before.

_“How the thought of you does things to me…”_

They widened their strides, travelling around the room, letting the music envelop them in its gentle melody. Keith studied the face he knew so well that he could draw it from absolute memory. The pretty yet masculine features of his jaw and cheekbones, mesmerizing eyes, soft hair…

A small sigh escaped him, not going unnoticed by Lance, who raised his eyebrows slightly.

“This is crazy,” Keith muttered.

_“Never before has someone been more…”_

“What?” asked Lance softly.

_“Unforgettable in every way…. Oh oh oh…”_

Keith looked at Lance squarely, keeping eye contact.

“Ever since we met, from that time on the boardwalk…” Keith tried his best not to struggle with his own words. “Our lives changed a lot.”

“In a bad way?” Their movement slowed back to them swaying back and forth in one spot.

_“And forevermore, that's how you'll stay.”_

“No… gosh no. It's pretty great actually. I mean we've both been through a lot together.”

“You say that like survived some dystopian future together,” he joked.

_“That's why darling it's incredible…”_

“No, I mean… I've never met someone that I could open up to so easily.” Keith finally blurted. Lance's dubious look settled into more of a fond smile, and nothing could pry his eyes from Keith in that moment. “And you're pretty and amazing-”

 _Pretty and amazing. Not pretty amazing. Pretty_ and _amazing._

“When I saw you it was like…”

_“That someone so unforgettable-”_

“I couldn't get you off my mind.”

Lance felt his heart nearly drop to his toes. This was the moment.

_Tell him._

Lance moved his hand around so that it rested squarely on the small of Keith's back. He felt the change immediately and wondered if Lance was about to teach him something new.

“Hey, what-”

_“Thinks that I am unforgettable too.”_

It happened too quick for Keith to really comprehend, but he was now at an angle and looking up at Lance instead of straight on.

“That's called a dip, by the way.”

A steady heat permeated Keith's cheeks, coupled when Lance gently pushed back a section of his bangs away from his eyes.

The spent only a minute staring at each other, but for the two of them, it felt like they could stay that way forever.

Finally, Lance spoke up.

“Keith… can I… can we-”

Unfortunately, Lance was interrupted mid-sentence by the studio door slamming open. A panicked Allura rushed inside, looking frantically every which way, trying to spot something she was missing.

“Lance, I'm sorry, have you seen-?” She looked at the middle of the room where Keith and Lance were still posed, and gasped.

Keith glanced over at his surprised friend and yelped, rolling out of Lance's arms and hitting the floor with a hard _THUNK_.

As he scrambled to his feet, Allura rushed to apologize. Lance straightened himself, once again hit with intense disappointment.

“I am so sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt-”

“It's fine! Lance was just showing- I mean, we- I was just leaving.”

Keith rushed over to the wall to grab his things and Lance just stood, knowing that it was useless to stop him.

“Keith wait!” Allura shouted after him, but he was already down the hall, out of sight. She frowned, noticing Lance's forlorn look. He sighed and shut off the music.

“What did you lose?”

“I think I misplaced my Pandora bracelet. Lance... I'm really sorry.”

He forced himself to smile. “It's okay.”

Really, it wasn't.

 

The flyer on the bulletin board stood out to Keith more than any other. Maybe it was the baby blue paper or electric green writing, but he felt the need to read it.

 

_Intercampus Talent Show._

 

Well, that was new. He pulled the paper from the board after carefully removing the tack and read the rest of it.

 

_Anyone willing to perform or display their respective talent from the Art Institute or University of West Palm is welcome to audition for this friendly competition._

_The winner will be rewarded $100 gift card and a free summer seminar from the Art Institute._

_Please send in audition videos to_ intercampustalent@wpai-edu.com _by March 5th. You will be notified by the 10th and all other details will be released soon._

_Break a leg!_

 

A talent show sounded like something right up Lance's alley. He would have to ask him about it later. Right now, he was late for class.

 

As he left his class, Keith felt a hand grip him tightly by the arm and pull him into the hallway he was trying to pass. In reflex he balled up his fist and prepared to defend himself, or at least whack someone upside the head.

“Keith!” A smooth, familiar female voice hissed.

He turned to his captor. “Allura? What are you doing here?” he asked, lowering his fist. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I'm sorry about that but I've been looking for you for the past half hour. This building is a maze.”

She dropped her death grip on his arm and he snickered. “I was in class for the last hour. You could have texted me.”

“I left my phone in the studio. Lance is up there and I didn't want to arouse suspicion.”

“Suspicion of what?” Keith knew that Allura could be dramatic sometimes but this was different. She was more… secretive.

“Alright. What's going on, Allura?”

She scrunched her face in guilt. “I'm trying to get Lance to audition for the talent show.”

“How do you know about that?” He thought back to the gaudy flyer that caught his attention just this morning.

“I'm part of the committee, Keith. I'm the one teaching the dance seminar.”

Well. That was a development.

“So… you think Lance will do it?” He sounded hopeful, but at the same time his mind was driving at a million miles an hour.

“I honestly don't know. I've been choreographing this routine with him for “fun”, but I haven't been able to bring up the subject because the flyers weren't posted until this morning. I had to be fair.”

“But…?” He could feel her hesitation.

“But I really want him to win. He deserves the seminar.”

Keith agreed, but he couldn't help but think that there was something he was forgetting. Something Lance said about the summer…

“You know, I could ask him for you. So it doesn't seem like you're being biased.”

Allura sighed happily. “Thank you. Actually, I was coming to grab you so you could come see the routine.”

His eyebrows shot up in sudden surprise. “Oh, no, Allura, that's okay I don't want-”

She gave him a knowing look, her mouth forming a slight pout, and cut him off.

“Keith. You can't avoid him forever.”

There was a moment of connectivity between them, a brief look that told Keith everything, but he shied away.

“Can I at least try?” he said quietly.

She watched her friend frown and could only imagine the roller coaster of emotions he was going through.

“Bravery doesn't come as automatic as we want it to be. It's not a switch.” She placed her hand on his shoulder. “Do you know how many times Shiro told me it took him to ask me out on a date?”

Keith couldn't imagine his roommate having any trouble with asking Allura or any girl out for that matter.

“How many?” he asked, playing along.

“Eleven.”

 _No fucking way_.

“You're talking about the same Shiro, right?” He knew that Shiro’s crush on Allura lasted a while before they started dating but he always thought that Shiro was persistent and asked her out more than once.

Allura giggled. “Of course. What did he tell you?”

“Well, he didn't tell me but I heard that you gave him a hard time.”

Their romance was big talk last year, with a _will they_ or _won't they_ dynamic. Even though Keith didn't really care about that kind of thing personally, he _was_ Southern, and a sucker for gossip from his old roommate.

“Well, I wasn't intentionally. Trying to get to know someone new is a lot harder when so many people wanted to tell me their own versions of Shiro. That he was a bad boy, a flirt. You know.”

The frat boy personality. Keith knew it well. Or did he?

“When we worked on a production together, I really got to know him. He is a beautiful performer. And so kind. He never wanted to overstep any boundaries while I was choreographing him, and we ended up grabbing lunch together every day for a month.”

Getting food was a good way to get to know someone.

_“We’re still on for Monday, right?”_

_“Yeah, of course.”_

_“Well, I like coffee. And mini muffins.”_

Keith shook the memory away, focusing back on what Allura was saying.

“Well, where did that lead?

Allura let out a small giggle. “Well, you know what happened. Shiro eventually got up the courage to ask me out on one rainy afternoon. It was… the sweetest way anyone could have ever asked me. And it wasn’t until a few months later that he confided in me that he was terrified of falling for someone again.”

She didn't even have to say why. They both just knew.

“You're not used to feeling like this.” Keith shook his head. “But you've already made huge steps forward. Why would you want to go back?”

Because going back was easier? Because there's no extra embarrassment?

Keith just started at a place on the wall in silence.

“If you want my advice?” said Allura. Keith turned to face her. “Keep it simple. Ask him to dinner. Don't even think of it as a date until you want to tell him how you feel.”

“But what if I can't find the words?” He could describe Lance with every positive word under the sun, but when it came to actually telling him all those things he was more tongue tied than a frog chasing flies.

“Shiro tells me you not shy with words.” _Of course._ “Finding the right ones, however?” She pointed to his satchel with a glittery, manicured nail. “Might take some practice.”

Write it out. That's what she was telling him. That wasn't a bad idea.

Keith couldn't help but bring up one of his fears. “Okay but what if I do all that and it _turns out_ he likes someone else?” He gestured with his hands, chopping the air like a double guillotine.

Allura blinked. Was Keith really that oblivious?

The answer was yes. Obviously.

She fought the urge to rub her temples. She loved Keith, but _boy_ …

“You might be surprised by the answer, if you _ask him_ , darling.” Keith could hear the frustration creeping into her voice, and shrank a little. He knew at this point he was just being ridiculous and stubborn, and Allura was the last person he would ever want to annoy.

“Okay. Okay. I'll do it.” She perked up at the sudden confidence in his voice. He was still afraid, but at this point, there was nothing to lose.

Allura squealed in delight and clapped her hands together. “I'm so proud of you, Keith!”

Keith couldn't help but laugh. “Hey. It hasn't happened yet.”

“Yes but I know it will.” She pulled him into the main hallway. “Now come on, Lance is probably wondering where I am.”

Keith followed her out of the art building, a sly, fox-like grin spreading his lips.

 

“Lance, I'm back, and I brought an audience!” Allura exclaimed, dragging Keith into the studio.

Lance broke out of his stretches to see who Allura brought with her, and the sight of Keith's awkward smile replaced the nervous knot with fluttering warmth, like hot butterflies flying around his stomach.

“Hi Keith!” Lance greeted him almost too excitedly. He couldn't help it.

Keith waved, flushing pink.

Allura stepped out of the way to Lance's side. “Keith is here to watch what you've been working on.”

“You've been working on something?” he asked, pretending to be surprised so he could play along.

Lance shrugged shyly. “Oh it's not- it's nothing really _special_.”

Allura slung her arm around his shoulder. “He's being _overly_ modest.” She shook him around, making him laugh. “What is it you Americans say? Come on, _bro_! Show off!”

Her over exaggerated American accent made Keith nearly lose it, and evidently, helped Lance calm down a little. His back was straighter, and that confident twinkle Keith came to love was back.

He was ready to perform.

“I guess I could… is the music ready?” he asked her. She shook her head and Lance went over to the speaker setup to get the song queued up. Allura followed behind him, and mimed recording with an old movie camera to Keith, who was about to sit down. He cocked his head at her and she did the motion again, pointing at Lance with her head. This time Keith got the message loud and clear, and scrambled to get out his phone and open the camera. He propped his satchel on his knees to hide most of the phone and his hands. The music was finally ready, and Lance moved to the middle, while Allura stood off to the side, remote in hand.

“Ready?” asked Allura, all silliness dropped from her voice.

Lance nodded.

“A five six seven eight!”

She pressed play, and simultaneously, Keith pressed record. The music blasted suddenly, and Lance found himself in the music.

Keith couldn't pry his eyes away.

 

The video stayed in his phone, and if Keith had to guess what watching porn was like, it had to be similar to the deep satisfying feeling he got from watching Lance dance over and over. The mix of classic and alternative styles were fascinating to see put together, and it turned the song into something more literal. He could _feel_ the meaning of the words in Lance's movements. How he could convey that was unique and even Allura had an impressed look on her face as they both watched. Lance seemed proud of himself afterwards, and Keith wondered if it would _really_ be all that hard to convince him.

The bell above the door in Aroma dinged, and Keith didn't even have to turn to see who it was.

“You know, this place looks vaguely familiar,” Lance joked, pulling out the chair across from Keith.

“I know, it feels like it's been forever,” Keith admitted.

The barista at the pickup counter called out for Keith's order and he got up to go grab it, bringing back two coffees. He handed Lance his caramel latte, which he took graciously.

“I feel like you've been slowly feeding my caffeine addiction,” said Lance, shipping the cup carefully.

“Well, you refuse to drink anything else-”

“Monster is no better, cowboy.” Keith chuckled. It still felt as genuine as the first time.

“Okay, you got me there. But our reliance on caffeine isn't what I wanted to talk about.”

The change in tone of Keith's voice made Lance set down his coffee and give him his full attention.

Keith swallowed. “Uh, so… How do you feel about working with Allura?”

Lance relaxed. “Oh man, she's a great teacher. I like practicing stuff on my own, but it feels good to have a structure.”

That was good. That was a good sign.

“Do you like that routine that I got to see?” Keith asked his questions cautiously, not jumping too quickly into the subject of the show.

“It's awesome! I love it. It's like she picked the perfect song and everything just comes naturally,” he gushed. Keith smiled at how animated this all made him. There was no way that Lance would turn this down.

“Well, funny that you should say that…” said Keith as he reached into his satchel to pull out the folded flyer. “There's something I think you'd be interested in.” He passed the folded piece of paper across the table and Lance opened it skeptically. He skimmed over the flyer and Keith really couldn't read his expression. Was he interested?

Lance stared at the flyer for a good minute longer than necessary, leaving Keith to wonder if Lance’s brain.exe had stopped working, when he let out a quick, barking laugh.

It didn't stop. It just got deeper, coming directly from Lance’s diaphragm.

Was… he okay?

“Keith this is- this is cute but you can't be serious.”

What was it with people asking if he was serious?

“Of course I'm serious!” he exclaimed, a nervous, peppering laugh following his words. “Leandro, I saw this and I thought it would be perfect with what you were working on with Allura and-”

Lance did not like the sudden name change. “Keith. Did you forget why I got back into dancing in the first place?”

“No, you were trying to enjoy yourself again!” said Keith confidently. Way too confidently for his taste.

_Did he really forget? After all that stuff I told him and he forgets?_

Lance didn't like this at all. “Listen Keith I appreciate it but I really can't-”

“Allura thinks you're a shoo-in! And did you see the summer seminar? You would have so much fun.” Keith was the one gushing now, and like a bottle of opened wine, Lance want to put a cork in it.

“Listen, Keith, I really think-”

“Look, you don't even have to worry about the audition video!” Keith reached into his pocket to pull out his phone, where the video was already pulled up.

_What._

Did they plan this?

“Allura asked me to get this video and look Leandro! You did so well!”

First Keith, now Allura. He thought he could forgive Keith's lapse in memory but it seemed like the two had this in mind the entire time.

He felt so… betrayed.

Lance couldn't even look at Keith or the video that played silently on his screen.

“Leandro… Leandro look!”

The flyer crumpled under Lance's grip. He was boiling over.

“Leand-”

“NO! No no _no_ I'm not doing it!!” He shoved the flyer back at Keith, simultaneously knocking his coffee into the window.

Keith stared at the brown splatter, completely silent. Lance felt a few dozen eyes settle on the both of them, and realization hit him like a bus.

“Shit.”

Lance didn't waste a minute. The other customers watched him pull a handful of napkins from the dispenser to clean the mess.

“Keith,” he sighed. “I'm so sor-”

The bell dinged, and Lance turned sharply to see the door close.

Keith was gone.

 

Shiro felt something was wrong the moment he walked into the dark dorm room. Firstly, Keith's side of the room was completely neat, save for the easel that housed a canvas covered in black paint. Well, not so much covered but more so sporadically splattered, some of the spots looking fist sized and deliberate.

His eyes settled on the human sized lump in Keith's bed after flicking on the lights, covered by all the blankets he possibly owned, and approached it silently.

“Keith? Buddy?”

The lump grunted, and Shiro sighed internally.

“Um, I just got back from class. Are you okay?”

Keith shook his head, but to Shiro it looked like he was just wriggling, and he suppressed a laugh at Keith's expense.

“You want to come out of there and tell me what's wrong?” he asked sweetly. Keith knew that voice. It was his “open up to Shiro” voice.

A noise like pig being shoved by its bigger counterparts from the feeding trough escaped him. It was indignant and stubborn.

Luckily Shiro expected it, and backpedaled a little.

“Can you at least tell me about your painting situation here?” he asked with gesture to the abstract piece on canvas, even though Keith couldn't see it.

There was a moment of silence, as Shiro waited for an answer he wasn't sure he would get.

There was a sigh from the lump and a few quick words.

“I paint when I'm upset.”

Shiro nodded his head supportively. “Can you tell me what upset you?”

Another silence. And then…

“I pissed off Lance.”

That took him aback. Keith… angering _Lance_?

“Was it in public or wa-”

“It was at the café. He snapped at me,” his muffled voice sounded so forlorn it pulled at Shiro's heart.

“He didn't _hit_ you did he? Keith if he hu-”

“No!” Keith exclaimed, finally throwing the covers of off him.

He was… a sight.

Little bits of black paint peppered his face, and some streaks trailed his hairline and jaw. His hands were completely covered, and his hair was pulled into a half ponytail that hardly held any hair. He was a disheveled mess, and now Shiro's concern was in the red.

“Keith, buddy....”

“Lance didn't hurt me. I promise you.”

Shiro took a look at his red rimmed eyes and sighed. “Okay. Tell me what happened.”

“I made a mistake. A really selfish mistake.”

“Elaborate.”

Keith twiddled his paint covered thumbs. “I had Lance meet me at Aroma because I wanted to talk about the talent show happening next month.”

“Allura told me about that,” Shiro interrupted. “Something about being part of the prize committee.”

Keith nodded. “She was going to ask him but I told her I could do it so it wouldn't seem biased. I mean planning a routine was already biased but whatever. The point is I told Lance to meet up with me so we could talk and you know I tried to ease into the subject but I got really excited and I wouldn't stop. I even tried to show him the video-”

“There was a video?”

“Allura asked me to film him but that's not important.” Keith grabbed at his blankets and twisted them. “After I kept telling him to look at the video, he snapped. He just yelled ‘No!’ over and over and when he tried to shove the flyer back into my hands he accidentally knocked his coffee into the window and it made everyone stare at us. When he got up to clean up the mess I just saw this _look_ in his eyes. Like he was disappointed. In me. And I just… couldn't handle that, so I left before he got back to the table.”

“Keith…”

“I know. I'm a coward.”

He took that moment to throw the blankets back over him in a fluffy shell of solitude, but Shiro was not having it.

“You're not coward. You just got scared,” he said, lifting the blankets off of him. “Lance means alot to you, and to see him get angry at you, even if he was probably trying to not to, is... still scary. I mean you were just trying to convince him to sign up for this show, and he got frustrated because you wouldn't let him say no the first time.”

“He thought it was a joke. When I showed him the flyer he laughed.”

Shiro couldn't help but chuckle. “Maybe that was your sign that it wasn't a good idea.”

Keith sent beams of death in the glare he gave Shiro, which shut him up quick.

“I didn’t even realize _why_ trying to get him to sign up was wrong until I got all the way back here.” Keith grumbled.

“What do you mean?” Shiro was starting to wonder exactly how many layers there were to this story.

“Lance told me back in January that he was applying for a summer internship with NASA and that he was really stressed out because his parents weren’t confident in him. He used to dance when he was younger but he stopped because of… _reasons_ , and he’s been having mixed feelings about dancing again so his friend suggested that he get back into it as a stress relief from the application and his parents. That’s why I introduced him to Allura. Why _any_ of this even happened.” Keith stared hard at his blankets. “It went way too far. I thought I knew what was best for someone. Again.”

Shiro was barely able to catch that soft _“again”_ at the end of Keith’s explanation but he still heard it. It was enough to break his heart.

“I honestly regret ever helping him.”

The paint splattered canvas was evidence of that.

_“Hey Lance, what does that blue splatter represent?” Keith pointed to the one right by the shelf._

_“Hmmm…” Lance rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Immense sadness. It's reminiscent of Picasso's blue period.”_

_“Hmmm, okay, what about that green one?”_

_"Happiness. Like someone found something important to them.”_

_“The black one?”_

_“Regret. Like the person wanted to tell someone something a while ago but lost the chance.”_

“Do you really, though?” Shiro asked in the most serious tone of voice Keith had ever heard. Like he knew that Keith was lying and he wanted him to be completely honest with himself.

Keith took one look at Shiro and felt tears spring forward like bunnies in the springtime.

“No. He seemed so happy.”

Feelings were confusing, and especially to Keith, who couldn’t tell one from the other. Was he supposed to be sad? Angry?

He knew one thing. He was afraid.

Afraid of never getting to tell Lance he was sorry. Of losing him.

Shiro extended his arm closest to Keith, motioning him to scoot closer. Keith raised an eyebrow and Shiro just chuckled softly.

“Come here, man. I’m trying to give you a hug.”

Keith moved over slowly but Shiro grabbed him as soon as he was close enough, enveloping him a weird side hug. Keith didn’t mind it though, because he knew Shiro was genuine.

“Keith I want to tell you something. Well, a couple things.”

Keith nodded to show he was listening.

“First thing. You are being way, _way_ too hard on yourself. Yes, you, _and Allura_ , made a mistake. You can’t blame this all on yourself; my girlfriend had something to do with this too. She has a heart of gold, and I see that you do too, but the things you _want_ to do for people aren’t always what they need. Obviously Lance enjoyed dancing but there was a point where it became more about you two and not about him, which is probably why he got frustrated. You shouldn’t regret helping him at all, because from what you told me it probably did him good! He probably felt way better when he wasn’t thinking about his parents and you should be proud of that because it’s really a nice thing to do.”

That speech was a little more disorganized than Shiro wanted it to be, but he was just trying to lighten the obvious load that this situation dumped on Keith’s heart.

“The second thing I wanted to say… is that I’ve dated a lot of girls in my past-”

 _Here comes that “plenty of fish in the sea” thing_ , Keith thought to himself.

“But since I’ve started dating Allura I can’t imagine losing her and I think you have a similar fear with Lance. It’s so weird but you guys are like… You guys seem like you’re soulmates. There’s this bond that I’ve only seen in old married couples, and you two have it.”

“Shiro I can’t even ask the guy on a date. I basically _went_ on one and had no idea!”

“But when you were with him, it didn’t feel weird right? Same thing with when you guys all the way to _TEXAS_ ? Keith you knew him for like two whole months and you guys went on a trip that most people wait a year if not _years_ to take!”

That did make Keith sound a little crazy. Jesus.

“I’m not saying that like it’s a bad thing but you guys had something strong from the beginning. And you know naturally your feelings evolved, even though I think you didn’t want them too.”

Well, now was a good a time as any.

“Shiro. I’m ace. The reason I was reluctant to admit my feelings was because I’ve never had them before. I never liked anyone before Lance.”

Shiro blinked once. Twice. Keith watched his jaw twitch like he was trying for a smile, but went back to a confused frown as he processed Keith’s words.

“Wait,” he started, putting out his prosthetic hand. “Is that why you were like… when I mentioned-” He pulled a disgusted face before making a squeaky jacking off motion with his hand.

Keith watched Shiro’s hand in horror. “Yes! Please don’t ever make that motion in front of me again. Especially while you’re _hugging me_.”

His hand dropped immediately. “Right. Sorry.”

Keith sighed. Shiro meant well. That’s what he had to remind himself.

“I feel so bad because I was just… throwing guys at you,” Shiro said guiltily.

Keith laughed at how absurd he sounded. Like Shiro literally tossed guys at him like a football. “To be fair, your friends in your major aren’t cute.”

Shiro held his hand over his titty. “Ouch. Sorry my taste in men is inadequate for you.”

“It’s not your fault. I just like a specific man.”

“If you don’t mind me asking… what sets Lance apart from other guys you’ve met?”

Keith had to look around the room to keep from blushing. There were so many answers he could give, but one came to mind the quickest.

“He just… glows? Like...he carries his own light. It brightens the world around him.” Keith thought back to that dreary day on the pier and how by luck alone he was able to catch a view of the bright character against the gray background. He had no face, no name. And yet Keith's world was brightened for just a moment.

Shiro listened on with a spreading half smile. “He’s literally a light you never knew you needed,” he said, quoting something Keith had said to him a couple weeks ago, making Keith blush from his own cheesiness.

“Yeah. I wasn’t trying to be poetic when I said that,” he admitted.

“Can I say something? And I don’t want you to take offense to this in any way…”

There was nothing that could really offend Keith at this point.

“Shoot.”

“You’ve lived sort of a gray life, haven’t you?” Keith narrowed his eyes. Not maliciously, just in question of Shiro’s words. “Like, you had a lot of things you were unsure about. Where you were kinda stuck? Am I getting anywhere?”

He nodded slowly, and Shiro sighed, relieved.

“Okay, I don’t sound crazy. Cool. Okay. With that being said, do you think meeting Lance has changed that?”

Keith ran through the last few months on a loop. The art exhibit, going back to Texas, Christmas break, Valentine’s day…

“Shiro. My life will always be gray. I will always be unsure of something, or stuck somewhere. That’s just part of my life. But with Lance, stuff became clearer. Like the blurriest parts of my life just weren’t, anymore. And I think, at the end of the day, I was trying to do the same for him. Because I re-learned how to care about others. And I care about him _a lot_.” That seemed like enough for Keith, and he settled into silence.

Shiro sat with him, allowing the words to linger, in the quiet. There was so much about Keith that he learned in the last few moments of talking to him, more than the entirety of last semester, and as much it baffled him, he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

His roommate was so much more than he gave him credit to be.

“Listen,” he broke the silence, making Keith jump. “If Lance can’t see that in your apology, I want you to promise me you won’t lose sight of yourself. You’re a good kid. I would hate to see you go crazy over a boy.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever gone crazy over anything, Shiro.” Keith said, cracking his first smile since that morning. “I’m really boring.”

Shiro gave Keith’s shoulder a squeeze. “I think you’re the opposite.”

 _So this is what having an older brother is like_ , Keith thought. Mal was definitely his favorite, but Shiro as a pseudo brother came pretty close.

After Shiro broke his grip, Keith looked down his black hands and sighed.

“I am disgusting.”

Shiro chuckled. “You look like a chimney sweep.”

“Oh, _thanks_ ,” he snapped back sarcastically.

“Why don't you take a shower and get all that stuff off of you?” Shiro suggested, clapping him on the back. Keith reached up to touch the cracking paint that met his hairline.

“You know that's not a bad idea.” He swung his legs over the side of his bed and stood up, stretching his previously compacted body. “What time is it?”

“Like six. How long have you been sulking?”

Keith hung his head. “Since like… eleven?”

Shiro made a disgruntled noise. “ _Keith_. You missed all your classes.”

“I know Shiro.”

That was the first time Keith ever skipped class. He planned for it to be his last.

A sympathetic smile crossed his lips. “Okay. Grab some clothes and wash up, ’cause I'm gonna make you grab us dinner.”

Keith knelt to open his drawers, and grabbed fresh clothes. “Ugh you're gonna make me go out?” he asked, standing with clothes in hand.

“I think the fresh air will help you organize your headspace a little bit. Besides, it's completely on me.”

“Bribing me isn't always going to work, Shiro,” said Keith as he made his way to the bathroom. “It goes against my Southern hospitality.”

This time Shiro’s laugh was deep and hearty, like a good can of soup.

“Hey. As long as it works now.”

Keith shook his head, but Shiro saw the small smile he briefly flashed him before the door shut with a snap.

They were getting somewhere. That was for sure.

 

Lance was back in his position of dread on the small loveseat that occupied their living room. Unlike Keith, he had no choice but to go to class, even though every bone in his body was screaming to follow him.

Now it just ached.

How could everything go so _wrong_ in just one moment?

Lance knew that his anger was valid. But after replaying the scene in his head there were so many ways of handling it better.

To go back in time. If only it could be that easy.

Because what could he say to him? _Sorry Keith, I felt like you and Allura were taking advantage of me and my talent_?

That wasn't exactly the truth. And it wasn't how he felt, either.

It was so complicated. Yeah, he felt betrayed, but why? Allura probably had no idea that he was working toward that summer internship, and probably saw something in him that inspired her to help him further his skill. That was… Really admirable, actually.

But Keith…

Maybe he was blindsided by Lance's happiness.

_“And listen, I know you said the dancing thing was just a habit and something dumb but when you told me about your name I thought that the whole dancing thing was something you were also denying because other people weren't comfortable with it and I just wanted to say that you shouldn't let other people tell you you can't, Leandro. 'Cause... I dunno. I have a feeling it makes you happier than you say, and you should... let yourself have it."_

And Lance did. He never really mentioned the internship after that strange day in the library. So it was probably easy for Keith to forget what was going on outside of the dance studio. He was most likely focused on how Lance felt. Whether he was happy.

It was supposed to be nothing more than casual.

Now it was a world of its own, and Lance was constantly getting lost in it.

Keith had invited him to go deeper, but he just couldn't.

He had his eyes set on something much greater.

Poor Keith. Even if he really forgot about the internship, he didn't deserve to be fucking yelled at in front of strangers.

Anger was valid, yes. But hurting someone he loved…

Love. That word thrilled Lance and yet at the same time he was terrified of it. He knew without a shred of doubt that he loved Keith. How else could he explain why he didn't move on after all the times he couldn't seem to catch his attention?

His love was built on hope. And hope was a dangerous foundation. Like wet sand, it was strong enough to keep hold, but could easily crumble once it dried out.

And it was getting dryer by day.

But still. There was something about Keith he didn't want to give up on. Even now.

Keith wasn't a bad person by any means. Yeah he made a misguided choice but he shouldn't have had to suffer for it.

 _Don't be dramatic. He's not suffering_ , a cruel, rational part of his brain hissed.

The look in his eyes when Lance snapped begged to differ. It was like watching a deer in the headlights, one part terror, one part melancholy acceptance.

There was no way Keith didn't know that he did something wrong. But at the same time he just wanted Lance to do something that would probably benefit him. Just like Allura.

And that was something Lance ultimately admired over his other feelings.

Still. He couldn't help but sulk over the fact that he had no idea how to go and apologize for what happened. There was a huge possibility that Keith would probably not want to see him and that honestly hurt worse than some exaggerated betrayal.

Lance sighed. What was he going to do?

The sound of the front door creaking open didn't even make Lance flinch. He stared at the ceiling, completely absorbed in the hamster wheel of ever turning thoughts.

“Lance you home?” called Hunk as he stepped inside. His eyes fell on Lance's splayed out figure, observing the way Lance's hands were clasped together and resting against his lips in a prayer like way.

Something major happened. Hunk could feel it.

“Hey… Lance?” He approached the couch and his best friend didn't even acknowledge his presence. He still stared.

Hunk grabbed Lance's foot and wiggled it like a loose tooth. “Lance!”

That seemed to break his concentration. “Oh. Hey, Hunk.”

There was no life in that voice.

“What the hell happened?” questioned Hunk, tossing away his friend's foot.

That did nothing but send Lance's gaze right back to the ceiling. “I really don't wanna talk about it.”

That made Hunk itch internally. Lance could always talk about something. It drove him crazy to keep quiet.

“Lance. Come on. Talk to me.”

The wheel in his head stopped for just a moment, and every thought he had lined up to escape from the ever turning prison of guilt.

He took a good look at Hunk’s confused and deeply concerned face before turning over, letting the wheel spin some more.

“I can't. I'm sorry.”

Hunk crossed his arms as he watched Lance avoid him by turning over on his side, facing the back of the couch.

That was something he never did.

And now Hunk had a reason to act.

“Alright if you're not going to talk I guess I'll have to scoop you.”

 _He wouldn't dare_.

“Hunk we're not twelve,” said Lance, still sounding as lifeless as before. Not even a note of distress.

“Then stop putting yourself in a corner and _talk_ to me,” he demanded.

Lance didn't budge.

Hunk waited. _One Mississippi. Two Mississippi…_

“Okay, you asked for it.” Hunk shrugged before sticking out his arms like a forklift and shoving them directly under Lance's torso. He curled them slightly while he lifted Lance from his isolation corner and cradled him like an oversized baby.

 _Now_ Lance was moving.

“Hunk put me down what the fuck?!?” he yelled, trying to squirm from his grip.

Hunk looked down in amusement. “You want me to drop ya?”

“Yes dude holy shit!”

“Okay,” he said, promptly letting Lance drop to the floor. He landed hard on his ass, which was bony enough without someone testing his natural airbags, making him yelp.

“You are such a bitch,” he snarled. Hunk wasn't hurt by Lance's words. No one bit.

“I may be a bitch right now Lance but _you're_ being a freaking child.” The concerned look was back, his thick brows knitting together and his mouth pressing into a fine line. “So tell me what the hell is going on, Leandro Anton.”

Wow. First _and_ middle name. His father didn't even use his middle name.

Lance rubbed the inevitable bruise on his left buttcheck and sighed. “Alright you win. I'll tell you but can we at least sit on something that won't break my ass?”

Hunk nodded and hoisted Lance from the ground. They both sat on their respective ends of the couch and Lance prepared himself mentally to tell his side of the story.

“Okay. So… Keith and I- we-” Those were both wrong. “I blew up on Keith at the coffee shop today.”

Hunk’s eyes narrowed. “What did he do?”

Lance didn't like the way Hunk looked when he mentioned Keith.

“Well. I mean. He didn't really _do_ anything per say…”

“Obviously he did something to get that type of reaction out of you so don't beat around the bush here.”

Lance twiddled his thumbs. “He was trying to convince me to do this talent show both campuses are organizing.”

Hunk blinked. “A talent show?”

“Yeah. So like that girl I was working with sometimes found out about it before Keith did and she's been choreographing something with me for the past couple weeks because she feels like I could win or something.”

“Where does Keith fit in here?”

“I’m getting there. So Allura had Keith come and watch the whole thing, and record it for her. And this morning he told me that they both thought it was the perfect thing for me to do and tried to show me the video and shoved a flyer at me and it was all so much.”

Lance broke his thumb war to look at Hunk. “I felt like… Keith completely forgot the reason I allowed myself back in a studio. This wasn't supposed to be a _thing_ . But they made it a thing and I just… lost it. Hunk I yelled at Keith in _public._ ”

Hunk frowned. “Listen Lance I'll be real, it sounds like he deserved it.”

 _What_.

“No… Hunk no one deserves to be screamed at like that over a misunderstanding.” Lance knew in his heart that's what it was.

“So now it's a misunderstanding?” he scoffed. “Lance how many times are you going to make excuses for him?

“What are you even talking about?”

“Let's see, there's every single time you've tried to ask him out… The Texas trip-”

“Hey! He needed someone okay? At least he's been open with me about his problems,” he told Hunk, the accusatory tone not slipping by him.

“Oh, and what problem could I possibly have?” Hunk asked.

“How about not being able to afford your half of the rent because you're putting money aside to visit Shay in Kenya for spring break next month?”

There it was. The nail in the proverbial coffin.

Lance was like a zamboni with no driver. Careless. “I really loved the fact that you couldn't just tell me that you wanted to save money instead of pretending that your job cut hours. I've been bar backing for like three months and you didn't just tell me you were trying to plan this trip.”

Hunk opened his mouth to speak but Lance held up his hand. “Oh no I'm not done.”

This was not good.

“So not only was I picking up _your_ slack, while being lied to, I had to find out because your careless ass left your plane ticket tab open when I borrowed your computer. So before you try and lecture me about excuses maybe think of some for yourself.”

Lance stood abruptly, letting Hunk know he was dismissing himself from the bullshit.

“Where are you going?”

Lance stopped mid hallway. “I have work. You know that place you go to make money.”

Hunk looked almost regretful, watching his friend walk away.

But he didn't say sorry.

 

Shiro handed Keith a crumpled twenty. “You remember what I want, right?”

“A Kerberos sample special,” recited Keith for the about the fifth time.

Shiro grinned. “Right. And get yourself whatever.”

Keith looked at the face on the bill. “Are you sure you want food from The Comet? I mean it's a Friday.”

Keith was insinuating that the place would be packed. Also that he _really_ didn't want to be surrounded by people.

Especially when blankets were better.

“They're pretty good with carry out orders. And you're not getting out of this. I can't convince you to start jogging but the least you could do is get fresh air by walking to get our food.”

“Yeah but you know Dominoes is still doing that two or more for five ninety-nine deal. Can't beat that.”

“I'm getting kinda sick of pizza,” he admitted. “And I'm sick of _you_ trying to stall.” Shiro shoved him toward the front door. “Come on, I want my curly fries!”

“Okay! _Okay_!” Keith wormed away from Shiro and walked to the door himself, shoving the twenty in his wallet.

“Oh hey Keith wait!”

Keith stopped turning the handle and turned back to his roommate.

“What?”

Shiro pointed to his head. “Fix your hair. It's sticking up all weird in the back.”

Keith rolled his eyes and awkwardly smoothed down his post shower frizz. “Better?”

“Much better,” he said with an enthusiastic thumbs up.

Keith shook his head slightly, and opened the door, leaving the dorm on the quest to go get food.

He hoped it would be easy.

 

Lance watched himself button his dark purple uniform shirt in the bathroom mirror, smoothing out a couple wrinkles in the front. Tonight wouldn't be too bad, but he still wanted to look presentable. His coworkers were nosy as all get out, and if one thing was off about him, they'd start asking questions.

Once he was satisfied he grabbed his rolled up apron and hoodie from the counter. He saw it was supposed to be colder that night so he didn't want to take any chances.

Hunk still had the nerve to be in the living room, only now he was watching TV.

Typical. He would never admit that he was wrong.

“Don't wait up,” said Lance, grabbing his keys.

“Lance wait.”

He stopped mid stride. “What?”

“What makes Keith so special? Why won't you quit him?”

It was an honest question. There was no hint of jealousy. Hunk just wanted to know.

_Should I tell him about the way he smiles? The way his canines glint in the sunlight when he laughs? Or his storm cloud eyes that I want to strike me down with lightning because I can't look for too long? His small town accent that sends a warm current to my heart?_

_That I, like Hazel Grace, fell slowly, then all at once?_

“Because that's just not what I do,” he told him. “And don't think I forgot. We _are_ talking later.”

Hunk grimaced. He already expected the worst.

“See you later, Lance.”

Lance threw up a peace sign and left their apartment, leaving Hunk to his thoughts.

 

Keith forgot the amount of neon that adorned the interior of The Comet, and just how irritating the bright purple was.

But he put up with it, because he was able to get a booth to himself and a cheap Heineken. Two birds.

It actually wasn't as busy as Keith assumed but Shiro had been right: he needed fresh air. As fresh as one could get in this place.

The beer helped, too.

Keith figured he could get away with one drink, since he told Shiro it was decently busy, so as long as he came back home, he didn't think Shiro cared.

The booth was pretty comfy. Not Arus Pizza comfy, with seats worn from hundreds of people previously occupying them. The perfect place for a first… Or fifth meeting.

Ugh. He couldn't shake him.

Maybe he could call and ask him to meet him down here? Why avoid the inevitable?

Keith pulled out his phone and scrolled to Lance's contact, hitting the phone icon.

 

Lance's back pocket vibrated loud enough for Rolo, his assistant manager, to hear.

“Hey, silence that thing,” he told him, pointing to his still vibrating pocket.

Lance nodded, quickly pulling it out to see who was calling him this late.

His heart plummeted. It was Keith.

 _I'm sorry Cowboy_ , he thought as he slid the phone icon to “deny”. _I'll come to you, I promise._

 

Voicemail. Great. Exactly what Keith wanted.

Keith wondered if he should leave him something or just hang up? The second option seemed much more safe but, really, what was the point of playing safe anymore?

“Hey Lance. It's me, Keith,” he said, just loud enough for his microphone to pick up. “Um. Funny story. I'm at The Comet right now and I'm supposed to be picking up stuff for me and Shiro but I'm just… drinking a beer and think about this morning. And it sounds even lamer out loud wow.” He mentally slapped himself because, one, he was in public and two he didn't want people to see an obviously emo boy and think he was crazy, too.

“Anywho… I was wondering if you wanted to meet me because… I owe you an apology that's a lot better in person,” Keith paused. “So if you want. I'll be here for like another half hour. Okay. Bye.”

He hit the end button, dropping his phone into his lap and immediately wrapping his hands around beer. He didn't even want to drink it, the cold just felt good.

 

Rolo eyed Keith from his spot at the bar, and his sadness made him uneasy.

“Hey Nyma, you see that guy with the mullet over there?” He pointed out the booth where Keith was sitting to the blonde girl managing the tabs at the register.

“Yeah I served him. Why what's up?” She crossed her buff, tan arms over her chest.

“He's bumming me out man,” he groaned, swatting her ponytails. “I can feel his negative energy from here.” Rolo claimed he could feel all the energies of the universe, and negative ones “bummed him out”.

His eyes found Lance hunched over and counting the under the counter bottles and a dim bulb lit in his brain.

“Hey Lance, come here.” Rolo beckoned Lance to come over to his line of vision. “Do you see that Uchiha family reject sitting in booth five?”

Lance saw _someone_ , and he could have sworn it was-

“His energy is throwing me off my mojo, can you take care of him? Get him to order wings or something?” Rolo clapped him on the back. “We believe in you buddy.”

Nyma offered him a weak smile. She couldn't help that Rolo was just being… Rolo. But he was assistant manager and whatever he told Lance to do, he did.

So that's why he was slowly approaching Keith's table, thinking of something clever to say. If that was really Keith.

But he could already tell. There was no mistaking that mullet with the faded red undercut.

 

“Hey hot stuff. See anything you like?”

Keith wasn't even looking at a menu, so who was trying to-

Oh.

“Hey, Keith.”

It was Lance. Dressed pretty fancy in his dark purple button down and black slacks, Keith had to admit. Purple was a good color on him.

“Oh hey. I guess you got my message?” he asked, trying to not seem too eager about Lance's sudden arrival. He didn't understand the formal attire, though.

“I saw that you called but I didn't get a chance to actually hear your message,” he admitted.

Keith's nose scrunched. “Then what are you doing here?

Lance grinned despite the moths eating at his stomach. “Well. Not to blow your mind or anything but I work here.” He gestured to the now obvious apron around his waist.

Keith observed the small cluster of pins that adorned Lance's apron with amusement. There were a couple character ones, from shows like _Invader_ _Zim_ and _Adventure_ _Time_ , and a pride pin with just a simple bi flag. The one that caught his attention the most was the faded NASA pin, and he wondered just how long Lance had been holding on to it.

“Well if you're working why'd you come all the way over here?” Keith asked. Did he just happen to recognize him?

“Well you know me. Can't resist a pretty face,” he told him.

Keith snorted, but Lance wasn't kidding.

The flirting was only a way to ease Lance's nerves, because he had so much to say, and he didn't want to get it wrong.

“Can you talk? Or are you on duty?” Keith wanted to get the apology he rehearsed over and over before it left his mind completely.

Lance glanced over at Nyma and Rolo, who were both looking over with concern and impatience.

“I'm about do for my break. I'll be back okay? Please don't go.”

Keith couldn't imagine leaving now.

“I'll be here.”

A small smile flashed on Lance's face before he walked back over to the bar.

“Do you know that guy, Lance?” Rolo asked him, being nosy as ever. “Is he an ex boyfriend of yours?”

“Rolo!” Nyma scolded, slapping him on the arm.

“Ow! Hey it's a fair question!”

Lance scowled. “No, he's not an ex. He's just a friend.”

Nyma gave him a look that asked for more, and Lance reluctantly told them.

“I like him okay? But we had a… fight and I really just want to tell him I'm sorry.”

That earned him his first sympathetic look from Rolo in probably… _ever_.

He sighed. “I guess I can give you… twenty minutes.” Lance lit up like a Christmas tree. “But we'll be watching. And if you have to fight make it fair.”

“ _Rolo_.”

“Okay, okay.” Rolo waved him off. “Go get your man, or whatever.”

“Thanks man I owe you,” Lance gushed.

“Whatever. Just go before I change my mind.”

Lance moved to go back to Keith's booth, but he stopped in his tracks.

“Rolo, I need one more thing.”

 

Lance sauntered over to Keith's table with a ridiculously orange and yellow drink topped with a bright blue parasol.

“Try this,” he said, setting the drink down and sliding into the booth.

“What is it?” Keith wondered, twirling the crazy straw to mix the vibrant drink.

“A peace offering. I call it a Varadero Sunrise.” Lance watched him take a cautious sip.

The taste was interesting. Very fruity with almost no taste of alcohol, though Keith had to bet there was at least five different kinds in that tall glass. He pushed it aside; he wanted a clear head.

“So…”

“So.”

They tried to make eye contact, but were too embarrassed to meet each other's eye.

“I'm sorry,” they both uttered simultaneously.

Lance chuckled, and Keith smirked shyly.

“Should I go first?” asked Keith, feeling as the person most at fault, he should be the one to apologize.

“Actually. Before you say anything I just wanted to say that… the whole yelling thing… That was _way_ out of line.”

Keith chuckled softly. “I kinda deserved it.”

Lance's face fell. “No, you didn't. You made me upset but there was no reason for me to yell at you like that. I should have just told you why it was problem.”

“I mean, I know _why_ it was a problem,” he shrugged. “I realized it kinda late but Lance I'm so sorry. I feel so dumb for forgetting about your internship.”

“To be fair I didn't even mention it much at all since I told you about it January.” Lance really didn't discuss it with anyone except the teachers he needed recommendations from, and Hunk. His parents were pretty in the dark, too. “Actually, I just sent in my application. I should have told you.”

“The thing is you shouldn't _have_ to tell me. I just have _really_ bad timing.”

That was the funniest thing Keith could have ever said.

“Maybe a little,” said Lance, thinking about how he never seemed to get his own right. “I gotta ask, did you and Allura plan this? Like from the beginning?”

“Like, since January?” He nodded. “No, god, not at all. The whole thing with Allura was just to help you. It wasn't supposed to turn into this.”

“Then what was the whole talent show thing about?”

Keith gnawed the inside of cheek. “Okay. So it was a little planned. _But_ I had no idea until yesterday that it was even happening. I saw the flyer right before my first class and I thought that it might be something you would like to do. You know for fun.”

Lance raised an eyebrow, and Keith shrunk a little.

“But Allura found me after class and told me that she was going to trying and ask you to audition, and that she planned this whole piece for you, but since she's part of the group offering to lead the seminars she didn't know how to ask you. So I offered, since I thought about it already. Lance I promise I had no idea that she was going to do this.”

Lance soaked in his words like a slice of brioche in French toast batter.

“But in her defense,” Keith sighed, knowing this was going back into that dangerous territory. “She sees something in you that's really special. She wanted this for _you_ because she believes in your ability to transform music into a moving work of art. So. I don't blame her at all.”

It needed to be said. Keith was tired of Lance not knowing just how special he was, whether he wanted to keep dancing or not.

“Having you meet Allura was my way of making it up to you for all of last semester. Lance I don't think you even know the kind of impact you've made on my life.”

Lance leaned back in his side of the booth, hoping that his face wasn't betraying the shock his body was feeling.

Keith steamrolled through. “I mean, getting to be part of the exhibition because _you_ were my inspiration, that wasn't just by chance. Or when you went all the way to Texas and helped me understand what a family _really_ is… Lance.”

Water met the sky in a quiet hurricane.

“You are this incredible person. And this is going to sound so convoluted but when I saw the chance to help you, I took it because…”

_You helped me see my life in color._

“I never wanted you to feel any less incredible than you are.”

If Medusa saw Lance with her beady lizard eyes, she would have thought he was part of her statue collection.

That's how still he was, even as his heart tried to force its way out of his chest.

 _Keith, I love you_.

Why couldn't he say it? God dammit.

“Keith…”

He watched Lance's hand inch across the table.

“Do you still have that video from earlier?” he asked, turning his hand over.

Keith cocked his head. That wasn't exactly the subject change he was expecting.

“Um… yeah.” He thought about deleting it while he was back at the dorm, but something told him to keep it.

Probably the same thing that told him to go back to the pier.

“Can I see?” Lance didn't seem like he was the type to take Keith's phone just to delete something, but the underlying uneasiness remained while he pulled up video and gave it over.

The volume was completely lowered, so watched himself dance in silence, though at that point the song itself was embedded in his brain to the point where he could hear it as the video played.

There was something brewing behind Lance's eyes; Keith could see it but couldn't tell what it was exactly.

As the video ended Lance looked up from the phone to Keith. “I guess you should tell Allura to keep her schedule open.”

 _Wait_.

“I mean this okay to send in but I definitely have work to do before I even think about getting on stage.” Lance couldn't keep a straight face any longer.

Keith positively glowed. “You mean- you're gonna-?”

“I would be crazy not to.”

There was a sudden sound of Keith's hands slamming against the table.

“Hot diggity!!!” he exclaimed, causing a couple people to stare. He sat back in his seat. “Lance are you sure?” he asked in a much lower voice.

“They won't announce interviews for the internship until April so there's nothing really conflicting with it. But I'm doing this for fun. None of that prize stuff.”

Keith couldn't smile harder if he tried. “I'm really glad you're doing it.”

Lance couldn't believe it. But how could he argue with someone who cared about him _so much_?

Someone decided to cough very obnoxiously to break their moment, and Lance wasn't surprised to see that it was Rolo, tapping his wrist like an imaginary watch.

Lance knew he had to get back to work but there was one last thing he wanted to do. He just hoped he had enough cash.

Keith found himself suddenly being pulled from the booth to the end of the restaurant. An electronic jukebox sat against the wall, not currently playing anything since it was still restaurant hours.

Lance had a plan. It was a pretty silly plan but then again. It was only fair.

He shoved a couple one dollar bills into the cash slot. Keith watched on, completely unaware of what was going on. It looked like Lance queued up a song, but he couldn't get it to play.

“Keith. Since I was a bit of a dick and made you feel like shit in public, I feel like it's only fair that I get a proper dose of public humiliation,” he announced, backing away from Keith and the jukebox. He untied his apron and whipped into an empty booth. Someone whistled.

“Thank you,” he winked.

What the fuck was happening? Keith wondered.

“Bar keep! Play my song!” he demanded.

“Did that brat just call me _bar keep_?” Rolo hissed, but Nyma already had the remote in hand. She pressed play, not realizing the chaos she just ensued.

_“Oh yeaaaaaaah.”_

A higher male voice sang against a catchy beat. Keith was sure he knew this song but it wasn't clicking.

Yet.

_“For the longest while we jamming in the party, and you wining in on me. Pushing everything up right back on top of me.”_

Lance started lip synching, gyrating his hips in a weird figure eight movement

 _Oh my god he's ridiculous_.

He took it one step further and reached up to unbutton the first couple buttons of his shirt. A couple people cheered while Keith was trying his hardest not to lose it.

 _“But if you think you're gonna get away from me, you better change your mind.You're going home....... You're going home with me tonight.”_ Lance pantomimed pulling himself towards Keith, while hopping forward.

 _“Let me hold you. Boy caress my body. You got me going crazy,”_ Lance sang along, rubbing his hands all over his chest. Keith leaned into the jukebox, trying to hide his beet red face. To his horror Lance pointed at him, still singing and wiggling his eyebrows. _“You got me going crazy. You turn me on, turn me onnnn.....”_

Even as he was embarrassing himself he still managed to be adorable.

 _“Let me jam you. Girl wine all around me._ _You got me going crazy. You turn me on._ _Turn me onnnn.....”_ Lance gave up the singing to shimmy his shoulders, moving around Keith like a fly on Redbull. “What do you say Keith? Are we even?” he asked mid shimmy.

“Yes! Yes oh my god!” As cute as Lance was he just wanted him to _stop_. Then it hit him.

Why stop?

Keith took a quick glance at the machine. Two dollars to play a song. He could spare that.

Lance still grooved to the beat of the song, watching Keith hunch over the machine. “You gonna come tango, Cowboy?”

“Not quite,” said Keith, pressing the ‘play next’ button. The dancehall music changed to something more Keith's speed.

_“Work, work all week long. Punchin' that clock from dusk 'till dawn. Countin' the days 'till Friday night. That's when all the conditions are right for a good time. I need a good time”_

Keith touch-stepped forward to the beat of the song, grinning. “Let's see if you can keep up with this, Astro Boy.”

Lance stopped his dancing to watch Keith curiously. “I thought you said you couldn't dance?” he questioned him, smiling.

“Oh this isn't dancing. This is a way of _life_ ,” he explained dramatically.

_“Yeah, I've been workin' all week and I'm tired and I don't wanna sleep I wanna have fun. It's time for a good time.”_

Lance watched Keith side step once, twice, and do a four step turn. Two left feet, huh?

Keith waved for Lance to join him, and he eagerly moved to his side.

“I'm about to show you the Little Smokies of dance.”

“Zesty, but in a white people way?”

Keith threw his head back and laughed. “Exactly.”

_“I cashed my check, cleaned my truck, put on my hat, forgot about work. Sun goin' down, head across town, pick up my baby and turn it around. Good time. Oh, I need a good time.”_

They touch-stepped forward together, and Lance watched carefully, trying to keep up with each new move. After the turn Keith hitched his legs and moved backward, and Lance mimicked him sloppily.

_“I've been workin' all week and I'm tired and I don't wanna sleep I wanna have fun. It's time for a good time… hey!”_

Keith crossed his legs and stepped into a cha cha, going forward first and then stepping backward. Lance watched, impressed.

“What do you know about a cha cha?” Lance asked him as he sidestepped and ‘boogied’. The dance started over, and they were back to touch-stepping.

“Only enough,” said Keith honestly. Their grins were the brightest thing in the room, beating out all the gaudy neon.

_“Pig in the ground, beer on ice just like ol' Hank taught us about. Singin' along, Bocephus songs rowdy friends all night long. Good tiiiiime. Lord, we're having a good time.”_

Lance felt something brush against his leg and look down to a kid about the twins’ age trying to dance with them. The kid eagerly followed Lance's steps, falling only a second behind.

 _That's so cute_.

Another person joined on Keith's side, sliding into the dance with ease, and soon there was a proper line of people all doing the _Good Time_ line dance.

_“Yeah, I've been workin' all week and I'm tired and I don't wanna sleep I wanna have fun. It's time for a good time. Woah!”_

Soon the amount of people multiplied, until there was a solid square of people dancing along and having fun to the music. People from all over came together to join Keith and Lance in their show, and it reminded Keith of home.

He didn't want it any different.

“Look at you, getting your couple minutes of fame,” Lance quipped, really hamming it up with the shoulders during his boogie.

Keith shook his head with knowing laughter. “Lance, this song is five minutes.”

_“Heel toe dosey doe. Scootin' our boots, swingin' doors. B n' D Kix and Dunn. Honkin' tonk heaven, double shotgun. Good time. Lord, we're havin' a good time.”_

Five minutes? This was going to get old fast.

So Lance decided to improvise.

_“'Cause I've been workin' all week and I'm tired and I don't wanna sleep I wanna have fun. It's time for a good time.”_

He waited until the next turn for him to hook his arm in Keith's and swing him around in a proper dosey doe. The customers got a kick out of it, and broke formation to form a semicircle and watch.

“ _Hey hey hey hey!”_ they chanted, clapping along to the beat.

Keith could barely keep his composure. He was laughing and smiling to hard to really try.

_“Shot of Tequila, beer on tap. Sweet southern woman set on my lap. G with an O, O with an D. T with n' I and an M and n' E. And a good time. Good ti-”_

The music cut abruptly, and with it customer's clapping faded. Keith and Lance's dosey doe slowed to a dosey, then a doe, until they completely stopped.

“LANCE!” Rolo screamed. “Get back to work _now!”_

That earned him a few boos and a couple of not so nice things shouted at him, but Rolo just brushed back his greasy brown bangs and crossed his arms.

“Hey, you want me to fire him? Because I can do that,” he shouted at the crowd smuggly. A few of the more rowdy customers kept going but the rest settled to be silent, for Lance's sake.

“Okay, okay! I'm coming.” He unhooked his arm from Keith's but that didn't stop him from leaning in close to his ear.

“Will you stay until I'm off?” he whispered. Keith nodded, a familiar deviousness flashing in his eyes.

He could wait forever, if Lance asked.

 

The plastic bag holding Shiro's food seemed to be no match for the seaside winds, the handles twisting uncomfortably in Keith's fingers.

It was after ten, and they were _finally_ leaving The Comet after Lance clocked out. He got an earful from Rolo after their jukebox stunt, but his job was still secured, so that was all he cared about.

Now he could focus on Keith.

He never noticed how his eyes matched the overcast sky at night, but there he was, getting lost in their barely visible stars.

“So, have you been working there all year?” asked Keith, referring to the place they had just left. He wondered why Lance never mentioned it before; he always assumed that Lance had a campus job like him.

“I was working at the place that was there, before it was bought out, as a waiter and they just hired me on when they finished renovating the place,” explained Lance. “I normally don't work that late, or bar back, but I needed to pick up extra hours.”

Oh. That was strange.

“Did something happen with your rent?” Keith hoped that he wasn't overstepping with his questions, but he was also worried. Apartment living was stressful, according to Shiro.

“Kinda? Not exactly.” Lance let out a huff of frustration. “Do you remember what I told you about Hunk going to Kenya?”

The memory was pretty vague, but Keith remembered. Their steps fell in synch, echoing down the boardwalk.

“Yeah, to visit his girlfriend. Why?”

“Well, he's been lying about his campus job cutting hours so he could save money instead of paying his half of rent for the last few months. I figured it out when he left his airlines tab open. His ticket was… _really_ expensive.”

Oh.

“That's not… dandy,” he replied, unintentionally breaking the tension of the conversation.

Lance giggled. “No. No it's not. You know, I wouldn't even _be_ mad had he just told me the truth. I know how much Shay means to him but it's just… I don't like being lied to. I hate secrets.” He gave Keith a pointed looked and he turned away.

“I'm sorry. It was _Allura's_ idea!” he exclaimed defensively, and Lance giggled again.

“I mean, I can't stay mad at Hunk. The guy is my best friend! We applied to college together... I came out to him first, I got him his first date… As much as I want to stay angry I can't. That's not me.”

Keith cracked a smile. “So what are you going to do?”

“Pffffft, put him on dish duty for the rest of the semester, first of all,” he grumbled. “Honestly once the trip is over everything money-wise will go back to normal, so I'm not exactly worried about it. But I'm gonna tell him his ass better not lie to me again. He can't be nosy _and_ be allowed to keep things from me,” he joked, smiling too.

They walked further down the stretch of plywood, passing every miscellaneous building from a candle store to and abandoned bank. Keith caught sight of a pier, and he had to wonder if…

One glance at the gray-stoned building to his left told him that it was indeed the same pier from all those months ago, and he stopped in his tracks.

Lance was only a few steps before re realized that Keith had stopped following him. He saw Keith watching the ocean crash against the wooden beams, and walked back, curious.

“Keith? You okay?”

He blinked. “Yeah I'm fine it's just…” he pointed out at the pier. “That's where I saw you from for the first time. You know, the drawing.” Blush colored his cheeks at the sudden flood of that memory.

Lance's smile was suddenly sheepish. “You know, I don't think you ever fully explained the story.”

“Ah. Well I- uh-” Keith stammered, fully aware of the flame he just lit under his own ass. “I came to the beach at Shiro's suggestion, because I was having a hard time with my first assignment in Coran’s class.”

Lance nodded. “He was the real weird one, right?”

 _Weird_ wasn't exactly the right word for Professor Coran, not after finally getting a grasp on his method of madness.

“He was… particular. Anyway, I was sitting on the pier and that drawing of my family was almost swept away by the wind but it got stuck between the boards.” Keith noticed Lance almost starring as he rambled and nearly lost his train of thought.

“When I grabbed the thing and decided to leave, that's when I saw you moving against the crowd. You were so colorful compared to everyone else and the way you moved was kinda captivating.” He rolled his eyes at his own words. “That's probably why I came back two more times.”

 _Two more times_.

“You wanted to see me again?” Lance asked incredulously.

“Well. Yeah. I mean, I have this… _eye_ for interesting people, according to my mom. And you definitely caught it,” Keith laughed nervously. “Shiro thought I was a stalking you.”

“Well, _maybe_. But I wouldn't have reported you,” Lance assured him.

That made Keith laugh harder, just because Lance was genuine about it. “After the third time on the pier I didn't see you, so I didn't come back until I was headed to _The Comet_ to grab lunch with Shiro and his friends-”

“And I had just left work-”

“-and we crashed into each other.”

 _And my life changed forever_.

They both thought it, but neither said it out loud.

Idiots.

It was Lance's turn to blush now, his cheeks turning crimson.

Keith looked out at the ocean once more, letting his thoughts simmer.

Boy, was it odd to relive the beginning

Lance hated to do this, but Keith was already super late, and while Shiro would understand, he didn't want to press his luck.

“Hey Keith?”

Keith broke his gaze from the water to see Lance watching him solemnly.

“Yeah?”

“Come on. I gotta get you home.”

 

They spent most of their journey to Keith's apartment exchanging stories. Mostly about their families, but there were a few embarrassing high school ones thrown in for laughs.

"-and Mom thought it was the funniest thing since Seinfeld,” said Keith, visibly shivering again.

Not that Lance was counting, but that had to be the twenty seventh time.

Approximately.

“Keith, please take my jacket.” Lance thrust it into Keith's arms, not letting him give it back.

“ _Laaaance,_ we're almost there!” he protested.

“And you're _almost_ ready to catch pneumonia. Put it on.”

Keith held out Shiro's food for him to hold while he reluctantly shrugged the hoodie over his shoulders. The jacket was about a size too big, but the difference in warmth was almost immediate.

“Better?”

“Better,” he mumbled, grabbing back the food.

There were a lot of thoughts churning between them, and not that much time left to sort them out.

Keith was glad that Lance had forgiven him, but he had no idea how long it would take to work up to being comfortable with admitting his feelings. After all: Lance couldn't stay mad, but he could definitely say no.

Waiting wasn't that big of a deal for Keith. He waited for a lot of things. It didn't hurt for him to wait some more.

Lance, however…

They rounded the corner to the front of Keith's dorm building, stopping under the awning, like usual.

“You've reached your last stop on the Lance town express,” Lance announced.

“Oh man, I better get off then,” Keith played along, ‘stepping’ out of an imaginary bus.

“You have all your belongings?” he asked him. Keith looked down at Shiro's food and nodded.

“Thank you for riding with Lance town express. Tell your friends!” they both laughed at Lance's horrible attempt at a Jersey accent.

Keith wished that the night didn't have to end, but there was not much he could do.

“Thanks for bringing me home... again,” he said, shifting the bag in his hands.

“It's no problem,” Lance told him.

Keith grinned, despite the odd feeling in his chest. His reluctance to leave was starting to build up and it would have weighed him down had he not managed to say-

“Good night Lance.”

He was ready to turn and open the door when he noticed Lance looking at him, not seeing the growing desperation behind his eyes.

Keith looked down at his sleeve, suddenly remembering that he was wearing Lance's jacket.

“Oh, Lance, I almost forgot about your jacket,” he said, setting down Shiro's food so he shrug the jacket off, but Lance quickly reached out and grabbed him by his arm.

“Keith wait.”

Lance took a couple steps forward, not moving too suddenly, closing some of the distance between them.

Not too close, he thought, leaving a couple feet between them.

“I need to ask you something.”

Keith felt Lance's grip lessen, and his hand trailed down his arm into Keith's hand, holding it tight.

“Sure.”

The word was barely audible, but it was only for Lance, and it still managed to reach his heart.

Lance took a deep breath. “When we were at The Comet you mentioned that you had the worst timing but I have been trying to ask you this for the past few months and I was _always_ interrupted and it never seemed like it was right. But now it's just the both of us and no one is going to stop me this time.”

Lance found himself lost Keith's stars, and his confidence dropped.

“I wanted to- I was wondering if-” he bit his lip. _Spit it out_!

“The roller rink downtown is opening up again in a couple weeks and I wanted to know if you wanted to go. Just us.”

Keith repeated his words over in his head. Was he-?

“Did you just ask-” Keith pointed to himself silently. “On a date?”

Lance nodded. “Yeah. I did.”

_“I think you're more focused on what he might not feel, than what he probably does feel.”_

All this time Keith was worried…

“Why?”

Well. He was definitely consistent.

“That can't be a real question.” Lance shook his head at Keith's shrug. “Keith, I _like_ you! You're caring, and sweet, and beautifully pragmatic! Everything about you is so… unique.”

Keith couldn't believe that Lance was using those words to describe _him!_  Plain old Keith!

“I could go on and on about your smile, and the way your accent peaks through when you're happy, and how awkwardly cute you are. If that's not enough for you to believe me I'll get on my knees and shout it to the stars!” he exclaimed, letting go of Keith's hand to jokingly kneel.

He was about chest height when he found his face caught in Keith's hands.

He pulled Lance up and closer, and closer, and closer...

Until their lips met each other, like old friends.

Every metaphor on earth could describe their kiss and it wouldn't be enough.

It was everything, yet the moment lasted next to nothing.

And it was wonderful.

Lance's arms naturally found their way around Keith's waist, and they pulled him closer, closing all distance.

No one knew who broke the kiss, but Keith was the first to speak.

“It's a date.”

Keith watched Lance break into a smile, reminding him of a sunrise.

"Yeehaw," he said. Soft, but with feeling.

Laughter bubbled up from Keith's throat. His thumbs rubbed against the smooth surface of Lance's cheek, moving in small, gentle circles.

“If you haven't already guessed, I like you too,” he revealed.

“I am completely and utterly blindsided. How dare you?”

They laughed, sort of swaying with each other.

Keith's hands left Lance's face in favor of his shoulders, which he squeezed gently. Leaving was inevitable, but he allowed himself to just enjoy the moment for another minute.

“Let's leave and make a date somewhere right now,” Lance suggested.

“I would love that, but Shiro needs his curly fries.”

“Fuck his curly fries.”

Keith shook from laughing so hard. “ _Lance_.”

“Yeah. I remember the last time I kept you hostage,” he said, reluctantly breaking his hold on Keith's waist.

“Am I going to get a proper invite for this date or will I have to sneak of to call you in the bathroom again?” He broke his own grip on Lance to pick up Shiro's food.

“I'm thinking message by tumbleweed.”

Keith couldn't stop smiling.

This was the dork he chose and _gosh_ _darn_ _it_ was he happy.

“Oh wait, did you want-” he gestured to the olive green jacket still on him, remembering it again.

“You keep it. I'll see you again, after all.” Lance winked.

There was a small moment of silence, where neither spoke, but just looked at each other, like it was their first time.

“Good night, Tex.”

“Good night... Starboy.”

 

Keith opened the door of his dorm, being sure to make noise in case his roommate fell asleep. It seemed like he was awake, because the TV was on and Keith could see the silhouette of Shiro's head peeking above the sofa.

“Hey Shiro, I'm back. Sorry for taking so long,” he apologized, handing over his food once Shiro got up from the sofa.

Shiro grabbed the bag but all of his attention was on Keith. “What happened? You said a half an hour and it turned into like… two.”

Keith scratched his neck. “It's a funny story.”

Shiro motioned for him to sit and Keith did, curling up while his roommate microwaved his food.

Once Shiro was satisfied with the warmth of his food he joined Keith on the sofa. “So, start from the beginning.”

Keith smiled. “I ran into someone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
>  
> 
> (btw, I follow the tag "fic: the art of you" on Tumblr, if anyone ever wants to make art or discuss the story)
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for being patient <3


	7. I'll Come Runnin' (Home)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith learns how to roller skate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well holy cow I finally finished this chapter after 5 months. Thank you to all who waited. My life has been crazy and I'm making more positive choices for myself. This chapter holds a special place for me and was more difficult to write than the others. I hope that the additional inspiration from season 6 will fuel me to finish this story for all of you wondering if it will get an ending.
> 
> "I'll Come Runnin'" -Hootie and the Blowfish

“If you refresh the app anymore you're going to get carpal tunnel,” said Lance, stretching his leg over the balance bar.

Keith blinked and stopped mid swipe. Lance watched him slowly swipe and stare at him defiantly, flicking his thumb for emphasis.

“ _Keith_.”

“Hey, you're the one that put me on email duty,” said Keith. He had been hunched over anxiously refreshing Lance's email to see if the talent show committee emailed them about Lance's audition, since it was just a few days until March 10th, the last day for them to be notified.

“I know but I'm starting to worry about you.” He stopped his stretching and walked over to Keith, still emerged in the screen. “Maybe I should offer you some… _attention_.”

Lance reached down and pulled Keith to his feet, dragging him away from his spot on the floor. Keith nearly dropped the phone in surprise.

“ _Babe_. Please,” Keith groaned, not really angry but mostly flustered.

“You're tearing us apart!” Lance wailed, twirling Keith around and around.

Keith shoved the phone in his pocket mid turn, and stopped, extending himself away from Lance. He leaned in and raised Lance's hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss in the space between his knuckles.

“I think you might be jealous.”

A flush rose from his neck, tinging his cheeks. “J-jealous?”

Keith pulled himself closer, trailing a line of kisses up Lance's arm. “Yeah. That's the word.”

Melting wasn’t the right word. Lance was practically dissolving under Keith’s sudden affection.

“Hey, quit it!” his voice hitched an octave as Keith kissed him relentlessly, reaching his neck. Lance’s arms snaked around him just as fast, and lowered him into a dip.

“Is that enough attention for you, Cowboy?”

Keith stared into those ever blue eyes and leaned closer, letting their noses touch.

“I might need more,” he whispered with a sly smile.

Lance leaned in, happy to oblige, but was interrupted by Allura.

Again.

She closed the door behind her, trying to avoid staring obviously at her friends. “Oh, am I interrupting?”

Keith didn’t fall out of his arms this time.

He had done enough falling.

Lance eased him up. “We were just, uh-?” He turned to Keith, guilty and blushing.

“Finishing a dance.” Keith said, equally embarrassed.

“I see.” Her eyebrows said that they weren’t fooling anyone, but she let it slide. “Any word from the talent show committee?”

“Not yet,” said Lance, not bothering to hide the dejected tone in his voice, while Keith watched his shoulders droop.

Her brows furrowed worriedly. “Have you been making sure it didn't end up in spam? Some people have had that problem.”

Pulling the phone from his pocket, Keith quickly refreshed the email app again. “I’ve been refreshing it and looking through other folders for the last half hour,” he scowled. “If it ended up- Shit!” Keith jumped slightly, juggling the phone in his hands, almost dropping it.

Lance leaned over like a curious giraffe. “What?”

“You got a reply. From the committee.”

Allura and Lance glanced at each other, and soon she joined him at Keith’s side. She watched the screen intensely.

“Well. Open it.”

They collectively took a breath as he opened the email, and their eyes scanned it simultaneously.

“Dear Lance McClain, thank you for your entry. You’ll be pleased to know you’ve earned a spot in our show scheduled for the 28th of March,” Keith read, his heart stopping. “Rehearsals start Tuesday, March 13th. We look forward to working with you.”

With a quick glance between them Allura was close to tears, Lance was staring in shock, and Keith’s heart seemed to fill the space with noise, even though no one else could hear it.

“I made it in.” Lance finally spoke, jolting the others out of their own shock. “I really made it.”

“Of _course_ you did,” said Allura, wrapping them both in a hug. Keith never saw her get this emotional before. She was easily excited about a lot of things, but never to the point of tears.

He figured it was the pride showing its way through.

“Oh.” She wiped away the tears falling down her cheeks, careful not to disrupt the makeup she was wearing. “This is what teaching is going to feel like.”

Lance broke into a smile. “Glad I could be your student.”

She squeezed him a little tighter. “You're not off the hook yet. You still have to practice.”

“Then celebration coffee?”

“Then celebration coffee.”

Keith watched his best friend and boyfriend fondly as they broke their hug and moved away to start Lance's practice, while he sat in his usual spot against the wall.

The atmosphere in studio felt different. There was a charge in the air that Keith chalked up to excitement.

Most of it was his own.

 

Allura swirled her straw in her frozen coffee, trying to mix the flavors back together. Lance had to leave for work, giving her and Keith time to talk about important things.

“So you and Lance seemed very cozy today,” she observed, nonchalantly sipping her drink.

Keith shrugged inward and tried to hide his suddenly red face.

“It's just so normal?” he told her. “I used to be afraid to get too close but now we're hugging and kissing and it's… it's _easy_.”

She giggled at her lovestruck friend. “I'm sure Lance likes it too.”

He leaned in like he was going to tell her a secret. “Is it bad that I really like making him flustered?” he whispered conspiratorially.

Allura snorted. “No. Not at all. It's one of the joys of having a boyfriend.”

Keith grinned. “I can't believe I have a boyfriend now. It's so surreal.”

“Have you guys gone on a real date yet?” she asked.

“No, Lance is waiting until the roller rink opens back up because he wants to teach me how to skate.” Keith saw her judgemental look and quickly explained. “ _But_ he came over a couple days ago and we ate Pad Thai and watched a whole season of _Space Ranger Partners_ together.”

“Was there snuggling involved?”

Keith looked away and Allura smacked his arm proudly.

“Look at you go! Oh that's _so_ cute, Keith!”

He laughed. “Thanks Allura.”

“I'm glad you're so comfortable together. I was a little afraid that you wouldn't be so… warmed up to the idea.”

“I'm discovering my comfort levels. I like cuddling and all the mushy stuff. But I'm probably not ever going to be up for… ya know… _that.”_

Allura tilted her head in understanding. “I'm sure Lance knows. And he doesn't seem like the type to take that very seriously.”

Keith was reminded of their conversation in the park.

_“I'm pretty old fashioned. I'm saving that time for someone that really matters. Unless they don't want it.”_

His smile grew just a tiny bit. “Yeah. I think we're on the same page.”

“Then that's wonderful. I have to say Keith, I'm impressed. Perfect guy on the first try?” she grinned. “I'm kind of jealous.”

“What can I say?”

His gaze travelled to the window. The cars passed by in quick blurs, like smears of paint.

“I'm really good at recognizing art.”

 

Rehearsal day was here.

Lance was nervous.

But Keith was there, and he kept him at ease.

For the most part.

“I didn't think there was going to be this many people,” Lance whispered, clutching Keith's hand like a white woman holding her bag in an inner city area.

Keith rubbed his thumb against Lance's hand in soothing circles, trying to calm him down, while counting the heads in the theatre seats. “It's only twenty.”

“Twenty is still _a lot_ , Keith.”

They walked further down the aisle of the auditorium, trying to find a spot closer to the front but farther from the other acts. Keith pulled Lance over to the side seats on the right, sitting in the first two closest to the aisle. Lance's gaze hovered on the stage; it was the smallest of the three that the drama building held, but to him it was the biggest stage he would ever be on.

Noticing his distress, Keith nuzzled himself in the crook of Lance's neck.

“You'll be great,” he said in a low voice.

Lance leaned into his boyfriend. “Thanks babe.” He kissed his forehead.

“You're welcome.”

At that point all conversations hushed as someone walked onto the stage. A man in a dark purple suit with chestnut skin and long pale hair tied in a high ponytail stopped center stage, waiting for complete silence.

“Hello everyone.” He spoke with a sophisticated and milky voice. “My name is Lotor Prince, and I am the director of performance here at the Art Institute.”

He looked over the crowd, smiling. “You all have been chosen to display your talent for your peers and faculty here at the campus. As most of you know the winner gets a one hundred dollar prize as well as a free summer seminar based on your art form. We’ve expanded this however, and are offering an open enrollment to the winner as well, if you come from the University.”

That was some pretty surprising news, but Keith refused to think about it. Lance wasn't here to win.

“As far as rehearsal schedules go, rehearsals are every Tuesday and Thursday, from six to eight, tech rehearsals will be split between groups, and the dress rehearsal will be Tuesday March 27th. Missing three rehearsals will result in dismissal from the show. Does everyone understand?”

A chorus of “yes sirs” followed, and Lotor clasped his hands together.

“Excellent. Now I'd like for our stage manager Ezor to take the floor. I look forward to seeing you all in a few weeks.” He strode off the the stage, and a girl with bright red hair took his place.

“Can I please have all the dancers to the stage?”

That was Lance's queue to leave, but he was having trouble letting go of Keith's hand.

“Go. It's okay,” he assured him, separating their hands.

Lance reluctantly got up and made his way to the stage. Glancing back, he saw Keith smile supportively, holding two thumbs up. All the nervous juices in his stomach settled, replaced by a warm feeling of security.

It awed him still that he was so lucky.

 

A few days later Keith found himself working on another painting for class, and was in the middle of adding trees to his background when he heard a knock at the door.

 _Who could_ that _be_? Keith wondered without really wondering.

He stuck his paintbrush behind his ear, and walked over to the door. Running a quick hand through his hair, he answered the door to see Lance propped against the doorway with his arm against his forehead.

“Someone order an erotic dancer?” he asked in his sexiest voice.

“I think you're at the wrong party,” said Keith, trying his best not to break into laughter.

“This isn't a bachelorette party?” Lance looked around, settling on Keith's amused face. “Oh, but you're _cute_. You ever been shown a good time?”

His tone was suggestive, but his eyebrows wiggled like two waves, making his words lose every ounce of seriousness.

“These pants tear right off.”

Keith stifled his laughter and crossed his arms. “You're so gross.”

Lance lost all his sauve. “Too much?” he asked sheepishly.

“Just a little.”

“Sometimes I forget this doesn't really work on you.”

“Not at all. But ‘A’ for effort.” Keith giggled, and pulled his boyfriend inside.

Lance unslung the bag from his shoulder once the door was shut behind him. “Oh, um, I was going to call you but it was very last second and I was already coming so I figured I'd just ask…”

“What's up?” Keith moved his easel to the corner of his side the dorm so it was no longer in the way of the television.

“Hunk and a few of his engineering buds commandeered the apartment so the could study for a big exam on Monday and I was wondering if I could spend the night?” He twisted his bag strap nervously.

Keith froze, running the question through in his head.

As social as Keith had been in the last year, he had never had a sleepover, platonic or otherwise. Having a roommate was odd enough and he was thankful for the wall that separated them. Even in Texas he never had to share a room with the other kids.

But Lance was… _Lance_ . His boyfriend. Someone who cuddled him on the couch during a _Space Ranger Partners_ marathon.

How would sharing a bed for a few extra hours be any different?

“Of course you can.”

Lance eyed him skeptically. “Are you sure? I don't want to make you uncomfortable.”

Not wanting Lance to worry, Keith crossed the room and wrapped him in a tight embrace.

“Don't be silly,” he said into his neck. “You can stay.”

Lance relaxed. “Thank you.”

“Did you bring what I asked?” Keith eased out of his hug so Lance could access his bag.

He balanced his overnight bag on the back of their couch. “My top three favorite movies, as promised,” he replied, pulling out three DVD cases stacked together.

Keith shuffled through them. “ _The Proposal_ , _High School Musical 2_ , and _Shrek 2_. You have a thing for sequels, huh?”

“You can't tell me that the originals are better. There's no contest.”

“If you say so,” said Keith, plopping the DVDs back into Lance's bag in favor of wrapping around his arms his boyfriend. Their foreheads gently pressed together. “Do you want to help me with snacks?”

“Of course I do,” Lance whispered. “But why make more when I have you right here?” He nibbled on Keith's lower lip.

His sudden giggle shook them both and Lance hastily moved back.

“Too much?”

Keith met his sea colored eyes, biting his own lip in an amused and demure smile.

“Nope. Just enough.”

 

Five hours and a bowl of guacamole later, the two tuckered out boys laid sprawled out on the couch, neither very eager to move.

“Thoughts on _The Proposal_?” Lance managed to groan out. Not only was his stomach full of chips but Keith was laying on top of him, squeezing his gut.

“If my mom did what Betty White did to save their relationship I would be the one needing an airlift in a helicopter,” admitted Keith, earning a laugh.

“Yeah, that's crazy. I can't even imagine.” He drew lazy circles on the small of Keith's back. “What time is it?”

Turning over, Keith dramatically slapped his hand over his phone and dragged it off the table. He held it up to his face and squinted at the sudden brightness of the screen.

“It's ten-thirty. We should probably go to bed.”

“Yeah, I have a lovely eight-thirty morning class.” Lance stretched his arms over the side of the couch and arched his back, lifting Keith with him.

“Well let me take a shower and we can head to bed,” Keith told him as he pried himself away from Lance's chest.

“Bed? Like… your bed?”

Keith rolled over and stood up. “Yeah. Unless you think it's too small?”

“No, it's not that. I thought I was taking the couch because I know you've never shared a bed with anyone and I didn't want-” he was cut off by Keith leaning down and cradling his face in his hands.

“I know. It makes me nervous. But I trust you.” Keith smiled, a new glint in his eye. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Lance still sat there in silence, as Keith grabbed his phone and a fresh pair of pajamas. He felt his hair get ruffled as Keith passed him to get to the bathroom, and once the door closed behind him, he let out a long, loving sigh.

This boy would be the death of him.

 

Keith let Lance brush his teeth first, and went back to the bathroom to finish his night routine.

Meanwhile, Lance laid out on his bed, trying to make himself comfortable. Keith gave him an extra pillow and a small knitted blanket in case the comforter wasn't enough. He put himself against the wall, so Keith could easily slide in and have enough room.

Lance heard the bathroom door open and the light switch click, and footsteps soon followed.

“So Shiro texted me. He's staying at Allura's so we can, quote, ‘ _Get your freak on. Oh shit. Wait. You don't do that._ ’ What a great roommate,” said Keith sarcastically, going to turn off the lights on his side of the room.

Lance noticed his hair was pulled back into a low ponytail that revealed his pale neck, and he wanted nothing more than to give it sweet kisses. What a _babe_.

“At least he's considerate,” Lance replied, opening the covers. “Now get in here, snuggle bug.”

Keith covered his grin with his hands, not that Lance could really see it in the dark, and walked over to his bed.

“Okay. I'm coming in.”

Lance still held the covers while Keith slid in, not moving too close but he could feel the heat difference of another body next to him. The covers dropped.

“Hi there.”

“Hey.”

Even in the dark their eyes managed to find each other.

“Do you have enough room?” asked Keith.

“I could do with moving a little closer. If that's okay?” Lance asked back, getting lost in the dark sea of his eyes.

“I wouldn't mind that at all.” Keith's voice was immeasurably soft.

Lance scooted closer, bumping their foreheads.

“Whoops. Sorry.”

“No, it's okay.” Keith let his legs intertwine with Lance's, keeping one arm under the pillow and the other at his side, and Lance did the same.

“Can I ask a stupid question?”

Lance could feel Keith's breath now that they were closer, and it smelled like peppermint.

“Go for it.”

Keith looked away. “We _are_ boyfriends, right? I mean, that's what I've been calling you.”

Lance was quiet for a second. “Oh.”

Keith's heart fell through his side and onto the floor.

“I was just calling you the stranger that holds my hand,” he joked, and it took Keith a second for him to realize he was kidding.

“Not funny.”

Keith tried to turn away but Lance's hand found its way to his face.

“Hey. _Hey_ .” He rubbed his thumb against his cheek. “I'm sorry. Of course you're my boyfriend. And I'm _your_ boyfriend. Okay?”

Keith didn't nod, but his forehead nudging against Lance's was enough.

“Everything is at your pace. Sharing a bed? Public affection? All that is at _your_ pace.” He scratched his neck lightly. “I don't want to scare you by moving too fast.”

“I'm just… afraid of messing up. I only know so much about _dating_ , ya know?”

“You have nothing to worry about. Dating is like Friendship 2.0. We just… are more affectionate than normal friends.”

“So… like, I get to kiss you?”

“Yeah.”

“And hug you?”

“Totally.”

Keith was smiling now. He could feel it.

“Can I feel your heartbeat?” he asked him sweetly.

“Keith that's really gay.” Lance was smiling too.

“I know. But I've heard that's a thing.”

Lance moved his hand from his face and brought it back into the covers, trailing down his arm until he found Keith's hand. He guided him to the edge of his shirt.

“Go ahead.”

Slowly, he slid his hand up Lance's shirt. His chest was warm, and it felt like pure life, with the way it rose and fell with every breath. Lance shivered at the sudden contact, not expecting his hand to be so cold. It was easy to find his heartbeat, however, since it hadn't slowed since his slide under the covers.

“Wow. It's really fast,” he observed, making Lance blush.

“Shut up.”

Keith giggled. “No. It's great.” He paused, still feeling the rhythm against his palm. “It's saying something.”

“Oh really? What?” Lance couldn't imagine Keith being any more adorable and yet, here he was, hand on his titty, feeling his heartbeat.

“It's saying… ‘ _Badum. Badum. I really like him. I really like him. I care… so much._ ’” A soft, wistful kiss followed his words.

“Oh. Yeah. That sounds about right,” was Lance's awestruck reply. He kissed him again, a little deeper and sloppy, just because.

“May I?” he asked, touching Keith's hand first.

“Of course.” Keith slid his hand from underneath his shirt and grabbed Lance's, guiding him the same way. He let Lance move his hand up his shirt, and against his chest. Just like the rest of him, his hands were warm to the touch.

“I know it's hard to find on my vampire body,” Keith joked, earning a laugh.

“God, you're such a dork.” Lance settled his hand on Keith's left side. “Found it.”

“Good.”

The spike in heart rate was immediate.

“Oh, I think it's saying something.” Lance pressed his palm a little harder.

“What's it saying?” Keith liked playing along.

“It's saying… ‘ _I'm nervous… I like this boy but I'm nervous_.’ And… he shouldn't be nervous.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

Lance removed his his hand from his chest and drew a trail up and down Keith's arm.

“Because he has the most patient and understanding boyfriend ever. And the last thing he wants is for him to be afraid.”

If Keith could physically melt, he would have been a slimy puddle of feelings.

“You're too much for me… I can't handle you.” Keith told him, laughter bubbling behind his words.

A soft hand cupped Keith's cheek.

“Oh, trust me. Between the two of us, _I'm_ the one who can't handle _you_ ,” Lance admitted.

“You're just saying that.”

“Oh god, if only. You are… the epitome of beautiful.”

At least he couldn't feel his heartbeat now.

“Shhhhhhhut your face right now.”

“You are a babe and a half and you should know this, Cowboy. Have I listed all the reasons why?” Keith shook his head. “Well, your laugh is to me like what sleigh bells are to children.”

“Oh my god.”

“Of course I have to mention your smile. It basically fuels my happiness,” he gushed. “I look forward to your smile when I can see it. Oh! And you hair always looks so soft and I love running my hands through it. And if that wasn't enough, your personality is like your own special brand of cotton candy. You are _tooth-achingly_ sweet, babe.”

Lance knew that Keith was practically putty at this point, but it was all what he deserved to hear.

“It's why I fell for you.”

That was it. Keith was dead. RIP.

“Did I mention that you have a really nice face, too?” he laughed, but Keith couldn't even respond. He just laid there, staring at the boy who called him beautiful.

“Keith?” Did I break you?”

He blinked. “I think so.”

“Oh gosh. I'm sorry for overdoing it,” Lance rushed to apologize but Keith silenced him with a deep kiss, pulling him closer with his free arm.

“No. Please. Do it again.”

There was only a second of silence before the two fell into a fit of laughter, holding each other; while under the covers, their heart beats synced into one.

 

The back pocket of Keith’s jeans vibrated, something he would have missed had he not been waiting at the crosswalk. He was surprised to see that Lance was calling him; he was pretty sure that he was in class right now.

“Hey babe. Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” Keith questioned.

“We got out early because we had a quiz. Are you busy?” Lance sounded excited, like he had something to show him.

“I’m done with classes but I have work at the library in a few hours. Why, what’s going on?”

“Meet me at the studio. I have something for you.” He hung up abruptly, leaving Keith to wonder what his boyfriend was up to.

 

As he reached the studio, all theories of what Lance might have in store suddenly fell out of the window, because Keith opened the door to a pitch black room.

“Lance?”

Was he early?

Stepping inside, he tried to find the light switch, but was startled by a sudden voice speaking from the dark.

“Keith! Close the door and follow my voice.”

It was Lance. Obviously.

_What in tarnation?_

Despite every cell in his body telling him that it was weird and probably dangerous to be walking in the dark, he closed the door and started making his way to Lance’s voice.

“You should probably keep talking,” said Keith, walking blindly forward.

“They should call you Sweet Bottom Keith.”

Keith made a turn, walking closer to the center of the room with his eyebrows reaching to heaven. “Do I want to know?”

“Well, you’re sweet, and I don’t know if you really looked at your-”

“When I get over there I’m gonna tickle you to death.”

With that mild threat, Keith quickened his pace towards where he thought Lance was standing, sticking out his arms to try and feel for him.

“You'll have to find me first,” said Lance smugly, really just giving himself away.

“You shouldn't have said that.” Keith stepped confidently to where he heard Lance's voice.

 _Too_ confidently.

Keith's foot snagged on his shoelace, sending him tumbling toward the ground. Or so he thought, as a pair of strong arms managed to catch him mid-fall.

“I've got you buddy.”

Lance picked him up from his awkward falling position and helped him upright, much to Keith's embarrassment.

“Gee, thanks,” said Keith, burying his face in Lance's collar.

“You're welcome.” He rubbed the small of Keith's back. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I mean, I'm wondering what in the Sam Hill is going on but, ya know, I'm peachy.”

Lance chuckled. “I can explain.”

“Please.”

Keith felt Lance's hand leave his back, and heard a quick click. The dark room soon filled with a soft piano medley, easing the tenseness of the darkness.

“Is this another dance lesson?” Keith quipped, feeling his hand return to his back, and his own finding Lance's shoulder.

Lance casually slipped the fingers of his other hand between Keith's, bringing their hands up together.

“Not exactly. This more of an… exercise.”

“Oh?” Keith was starting to wonder if maybe all the dancing was getting to his boyfriend's head.

They swayed together, following the beat of the music.

“I… um, I thought a lot about what you said, when I stayed over. How you're afraid of messing up because you don't know much about being with someone.”

Oh. _That_.

It took all Keith had to not shrink down in embarrassment. “You did?”

“Yeah. And I know that you're feeling pretty vulnerable, so I thought, why not level the playing field?”

“I don't know if I understand.”

Lance, despite his confidence earlier, swallowed nervously. “So, my mom always says the most vulnerable times of your life are when you're naked, and when you're in the dark. Because either people can see all of you, or none of you, and you're exposed either way. And, as godly as my body is-”

Keith cut him off with a snort.

“Hey!” Lance scowled, but he got Keith back with an Elmo kiss. “As godly as my body is, I don't think that's the kind of vulnerability you need to see. So, I'm here in the dark so you can see all of me. Metaphorically speaking.”

“Lance, I'm still not-”

“I want you to ask me anything. About dating, about myself. I want you to feel confident about us, about you. I don't want you to be afraid anymore.”

It was a weird feeling, to have all your defenses drop at once, like a towel that just didn't want to stay wrapped.

The distance between them closed as much as Keith would allow, his cheek pressing against his boyfriend's as he whispered in his ear.

“I'm always going to be afraid.”

Lance nuzzled him. “I know. But… it's a start, right?”

“Yeah, I guess it is.” Keith stepped back and took a breath. “Okay. I guess my first question would be… What was your first kiss like?”

Lance coughed. “Oh god. Okay so… It was wet and painful. Wet for me, painful for her.”

“ _Wet?_ ”

“Let me explain myself babe!” Lance's voice hitched an octave. “So my brother told me _‘Hey turd, if you're gonna kiss a girl you gotta make sure your lips are moist, like a fish. No one wants to kiss crusty ass lips.’_ So when I went to kiss the girl I had a mouth full of spit ready for my lips.”

Keith gagged. “That's so fucking gross.”

“I know. And on top of that, I had braces, so not only was I slobbering all over her, but her lips looked like they had just went through a cheese grater.”

“What, was she sucking on your teeth?”

“Ya know, I didn't really give her much else,” said Lance, laughing at himself.

Keith wished that Lance could see the smile that spread across his face like Country Crock butter.

They carefully stepped together, moving in a square. Up, to the side, down, and to the side again.

“Alright, here's a more serious question.”

“Shoot.”

“When did you come out to your parents?”

A low whistle was heard in the darkness.

“Oh man, I think I was sixteen, so like the end of sophomore year? It's been so long.”

“Were you scared?”

The grip on Keith's hand tightened.

“I don't think there's a single person that isn't afraid of coming out. But I came out to Hunk first, so it was definitely easier to get the words out. But I was still scared of how they might react.”

“Are you parents religious or-?”

“Yeah. They raised us Catholic, but for Catholics they were pretty easy going. Still, when I told them, I expected the worst, especially from my dad.”

Keith had heard plenty of horror stories of kids that tried to come out in his small Texan town: kids who were beaten, kicked out, or worse. It was terrifying, and so he kept his own romantic preference a secret until college.

“What did he say, when you told him?”

“Well, it was Thanksgiving, so my brother and sister were both home. And I just sorta… said it? And before I knew what I really did, Alexi and Tye were behind me, ready to defend me if my parents lashed out. That was the first time I really felt close to Tye,” he admitted softly.

Keith squeezed Lance's shoulder.

“But I think the biggest surprise was that my parents didn't react negatively. No outbursts or walking out of the room. My dad, he-” A chuckle escaped him. “He said: ‘ _So does this mean you're going to bring twice as many people home to me and your mother?_ ’ and my mom was kinda mortified. I remember her shouting ‘ _He's a good boy!’_ and slapping his arm. And we all laughed. Tye was almost on the floor.”

If there was anything Keith loved more, it was hearing the fondness in his boyfriend's voice as he talked about his family.

Maybe it was wishful thinking, but he hoped to be a part of that some day.

Lance's family.

“A few months later I brought home my first boyfriend and everything was great. I wasn't afraid to be myself.”

“So, how many relationships have you had?” asked Keith.

“Three. Four, now that I'm including you.”

“ _Geez._ ”

“That's not a lot.”

“No, no that's not- that's just, three more than me,” explained Keith sheepishly.

“ _Oh_. Well. Everyone has a first.” The assurance in Lance's voice eased the sudden tension in Keith's upper body. Their fingers untwined, and Lance's hand traced the length of Keith's arm until he reached his neckline. A small shiver traveled down his spine at the soft touch.

“If it means anything,” started Lance, lifting his boyfriend's chin with a finger and closing their distance once again. “I'm happier to be your first.”

Keith smiled and leaned in, so their lips could share a much needed embrace.

Kisses were so much sweeter in the dark.

“Speaking of firsts... Our first kiss, on a scale of one to ten-”

“A billion. No question.”

They laughed and held each other, just like the first time.

“God, you're beautiful when you laugh,” Lance sighed, his breath tickling Keith's nose.

“You can't even see me, dork.” He was glad he couldn't, or Lance would see how his boyfriend's face was on fire.

“I don't need to. I can just imagine the way your eyes light up and how your smile catches the light and oh- I'm melting just thinking about it.” He slumped dramatically and almost caused the two of them to fall over. Keith regained his balance and draped his arms over Lance's shoulders. His hands met at the back of his neck, clapping like a necklace.

“Okay, loverboy.” The sarcasm did nothing to hide the softness in his voice as he gnawed at his lip. “Can I say something cheesy?”

“Of course.”

“Your smile. It reminds me of the sun. And your eyes pull me in like the tide.”

Lance suddenly halted all movement and Keith wondered if maybe that was too much.

“ _Ughhhh_ , who gave you the right to be so poetic!” he groaned, smoothly dipping Keith and pressing his forehead against his. “You slay me, Keith Kogane.”

“Just call me the Boy Slayer,” said Keith in what he imagined was a sexy voice.

Lance couldn't help it; he burst into loud, almost obnoxious laughter and it took Keith a hot second to realized how wrong that sounded.

“Wait no-”

The laughter was contagious, and Keith fell victim as he tried to explain himself.

“God, I'm such an idiot.”

“Yeah, but you're a cute idiot,” Lance confirmed.

“I will _bite you_.”

“Oh no! _Please_! Have mercy!”

Keith tried to lunge at Lance in the dark, aiming for his neck but ultimately threw Lance off balance and sent them both toppling to the floor.

“Owwww.”

Lance groaned under the weight of Keith splayed over his stomach, ready to feel the pain from the back of his head hitting the hardwood floor.

But he didn't. Instead he felt Keith's hand grip the back of his skull, protecting him.

Lifting himself off of Lance with his other arm, Keith scrambled to apologize.

“Oh god babe I'm so sorry,” he exclaimed. He moved so that instead of crushing Lance's abdomen he sat comfortably at his hips. “I'm such a klutz.”

“You're fine,” assured Lance, albeit weakly. He regained a steady breathing, stomach rising and falling.

Keith eased his hand from Lance's head, gently letting it touch the floor, but moving his hand down to cradle his neck.

“Are you okay?”

The thumb of Keith’s hand massaged the corner of his boyfriend's jaw, unknowingly making his insides feel like instant ramen noodles.

“Just peachy,” he sighed. He rubbed Keith's thigh. “Still going to bite me?”

“Only if you ask,” said Keith, tapping his thumb against Lance's jaw.

Laughter burst out of Lance like a deflating air mattress, and caused Keith to throw his head back in his own laughter.

“You're wild.”

“Thanks.”

They laughed harder.

Lance snaked his hands up Keith's thighs and up to his hips. He pushed away fabric that he didn't recall being so loose earlier, and ran his knuckles against it, suddenly realizing why it felt so familiar.

“Are you wearing my jacket?”

Keith's thighs squeezed his torso guiltily.

“Well, I- I mean,” he stammered. “I might be.”

“Keith!”

“You left at my dorm the last time you were over, what was I supposed to do?”

Lance let go of his hips and pulled at the fabric, bringing Keith closer.

“Maybe not steal it?”

Keith traced his other hand up the middle of Lance's chest, up and over his gently protruding collar bone.

“Maybe I should just steal your heart instead.”

Lance gulped. All of his body was on fire, like he had been drenched in fire ants and left to their mercy.

“Oh, you funky little cowboy.”

The boy under Keith felt his boyfriend press soft kisses on his forehead, down the bridge of his nose, and finally on his ready lips.

“I'm really starting to like when you call me cowboy, Leandro,” he whispered, even though it was just the two of them.

The way he spoke Lance's name sent lightning down the base of his spine.

He was so hooked. Line and sinker.

“Well, you know you can call me… any time.”

Even in the dark Keith knew he was making finger guns.

“How did I fall for such a giant doofus?” Keith asked himself, and his boyfriend, and the universe.

“I think it's called gravity but ya know, I could be wrong,” Lance quipped back, unable to resist.

Keith groaned. What a loser.

 _His_ loser.

Taking care not to knee his boyfriend in the stomach, Keith lifted himself off of Lance and flung himself onto the floor. Despite his not quite cushioned butt landing on his tailbone, he laid back and sighed. His hand found Lance's and he wormed his fingers through the gaps, clapping tight. In any other situation, this would have been extremely awkward, but there was a sense of comfort and familiarity, like anything they could do from now on would never feel like a first time. Keith knew it was weird, normal people weren't like this.

Then again, neither of them were really the textbook definition of normal.

Maybe that's why they fit so well, like two puzzle pieces, creating a picture of adoration for one another.

“Lance?”

“Yes?”

 _I love you_.

“Are you nervous?”

The music stopped ages ago and the silence that followed was deafening.

“About what?”

“The future.” That seemed a little heavy, so he elaborated. “Like… the talent show, and your interview?”

Keith could hear him suck his teeth.

“Well, no. I thought I would be, because I haven't seen a stage in ten years. But… there's something about it that just seems like.... I _belong_ up there. I mean the show is so soon but I have no butterflies or anything. As for the interview…” The slow drag of his thumb against Keith's knuckles echoed anxiousness. “I have no idea when that's going to be and I think that scares me more. I mean, I've been preparing for three whole years for this and I still don't feel like I'm ready.”

“Of course you are,” he insisted. Keith couldn't believe that Lance was losing confidence in himself. “You are more prepared than anybody else. Don't sell yourself short, darlin’.”

The twang in Keith's voice hit Lance's heart like an arrow, hitting that sweet, leg melting spot.

“Okay, if I get picked-”

“ _When_.”

“Okay… _when_ I get picked _,_ will you come with me?”

Keith was struck with a sudden sinking feeling in his gut; not a bad one, almost more one of disbelief.

“To your interview?”

“Yeah.”

 _I would travel the ends of the Earth for you_.

“ _Duh_. What kind of boyfriend would I be if didn't?”

Lance sighed, a giggle tailing the long stretch of breath.

“I don't know, I thought maybe you wouldn't want to miss class,” he teased.

“Fuck class!” Keith exclaimed, startling Lance enough for him to spaz a little.

The two fell into laughter again, their hands clenched tight, like they would float away otherwise.

As the metaphorical dust settled, Keith brought himself to say something that he had been thinking since this odd, endearing experience began.

“You know. I'm really happy, being with you. It's not something I really saw myself doing. No, like, with you but in general.” He knew it was awkward to say but it was the truth.

He was happy.

“I'm so, _so_ glad you are, Keith. You deserve it.” Lance gripped him a little tighter. “You're wonderful.”

It was never like Keith to cry. He was always one for letting his feelings out on paper. But he should have known from the first little sketch:

He loved this boy.

“Thank you, Lance.”

He did his best to wipe the tears trailing down his cheeks without Lance hearing. They laid still otherwise, relaxing in the dark.

“We should probably head back,” said Keith after a moment.

“Nah. Let's just lay here for a few more minutes.”

So they did.

 

Keith glanced at himself in the mirror, doing a once-over of his look.

The day was here: the big date.

He of course wanted everything to be perfect, from the choice of clothes to the surprise bouquet of flowers laid on the sink.

Sunflowers. For the boy of the sun.

After fiddling with his hair for the last twenty minutes and just deciding to tie it up, he stepped out for Shiro, who was acting as a first date coach, to see.

“Well?” he asked, spinning around with his arms stuck out, so Shiro could get a full three-sixty.

Keith managed to dig out his favorite pair of black skinny jeans with rips at the knees, a classic gray tee shirt, and a black hoodie. Shiro looked him over pensively, eyes gravitating toward the shirt.

“The jeans are nice, but are dark colors a… _comfort_ thing?” he asked.

Keith crossed his arms defensively. “ _No._ ”

“So you wouldn't mind trying to find something more colorful?”

A pout crossed Keith's lips as he resigned to go back to his drawers to pull out something more colorful.

Shiro was a bit more curious than usual, as he peered around the partition that separated them. He watched Keith flick through a pile of shirts that, though having color, were still dark. There was a shirt at the bottom of the pile that Shiro spotted right away.

“What about that one?” he asked, pointing to the white fabric.

Keith tried to tuck it under the pile further. “No, it's too much.”

Shiro raised his bold eyebrows in disbelief. “Nah, lemme me see!”

Keith snapped up to try and grab it but Shiro was too fast and was already holding it in front of his insanely buff chest, making the shirt look smaller than it was.

“What are you talking about? This is bitchin’.”

The white shirt wasn't all white after all; the top half featured a dripping rainbow across the collar and short sleeves.

Keith snatched the shirt away and held it close. “One, never say that again. Two, it's too flashy. I got it as a gift from my sister.”

Shiro's brow furrowed. “Then it's perfect.”

 _"Shiro-_ ”

“Listen, bud, you don't want people to think Lance is dating Skeleton Way or whoever the fuck that guy is.”

 _Is he calling me Gerard Way or Jack Skellington?_ he wondered. Either one was a compliment, in Keith's head.

“Fine. I'll try it on,” he agreed, stomping off to the bathroom.

Shiro waited outside of the bathroom on his side, arms cross and a satisfied smirk stretching his lips.

It took two seconds for Keith to come back out with the new shirt on. Shiro made a spinning motion with his finger and Keith sighed, spinning again.

“Now _that_ looks like a nice date outfit. Don't you feel a little better?”

A quick glance in the mirror proved that yeah, Keith did feel a little better. He straighten his back, rolled his shoulders, and smiled confidently.

“I'm ready for my date.”

 

Lance fumbled through a stack of shirts, trying to match with his blue jeans.

“Hunk? You ready for choice number three?” he shouted, throwing on a baby blue shirt haphazardly.

“Go for it!” Hunk shouted back.

Lance left his room and walked up the hallway into the kitchenette where Hunk was washing their breakfast dishes.

Oh yeah. That was happening.

“Well?”

Hunk scanned him. “Blue is your color but it's not Easter, Lance.”

Lance looked down. “Are you saying it's too bright?”

Hunk nodded and continued to scrub at the pan.

Groaning, he pulled off the shirt and threw it on the ground, gaining Hunk’s attention once again.

“Calm down, Lance. You're being dramatic.”

“ _Dramatic_? Me, dramatic?” he asked, standing shirtless in the middle of their kitchen.

Hunk didn't have to say a word. He just gave the Look.

Lance shrank back. “Okay. Yeah. I'm being dramatic. But I just want everything to be perfect.”

This was such an important day, and he really wanted Keith to enjoy everything. Even his appearance.

Not that Keith ever _didn't_ , but Lance wanted all his bases covered.

“You're stressing yourself out. Give me two seconds and I'll pick one for you.”

Lance flopped down onto their couch. “Fine.”

Hunk smiled and dropped the pan back into the sink, grabbing a paper towel to dry his hands. He went into Lance's room and dug through the pile of shirts; some he held up to his own broad chest, and the ones he liked he did a quick sniff test on, just to see if they were really clean.

Eventually he narrowed it down to a nice looking black t-shirt, and joined his best friend back in the living room.

“Here.” He tossed the shirt at Lance's face. “Try this.”

Lance pulled the shirt off of his face with a scowl, but threw it on nonetheless. He stood up and did a double take.

“I don't think I've really worn this before,” he admitted, pulling at the fabric.

“Good. You have no second guesses. Plus black goes with everything. You look fine,” Hunk assured him.

“I hope so, because,” Lance looked at the time on the microwave. “I'm gonna be late if I don't go now.”

Hunk smiled. “You have your wallet?”

“Yes.”

“Keys?”

He pulled them off the table, along with his phone.

“Yes. Phone too.”

A hand enveloped Lance's shoulder.

“Then you're ready. Go get him, tiger.”

Lance shot Hunk one of his many mischievous smirks, patting his hand before excitedly running towards the door.

He was almost out of the apartment when Hunk called out after him.

“I think it's supposed to rain later!”

Lance scoffed. It was always supposed to rain. They were in Florida.

“I'll be okay! See ya later!”

He quickly shut the door, sighing.

Time to see Keith.

 

The roller rink was a bigger building than Keith expected; it took up most of the space on this part of the street, but not to the point where it was obnoxious. There was still a place for parking, and that's where he stood, waiting for Lance.

He always seemed to be one the waiting.

Not that it ever mattered.

Waiting _did_ get him to this point, after all.

He held the sunflowers at his side, tired of holding them behind his back. It was fine for a few minutes, but now Lance was late, and Keith was not a fan of holding his flowery parade rest.

Pulling out his phone, he dialed Lance's number and pressed call. Hopefully nothing happened to him, but as he listened to the slow, agonizing ringing, of course he feared the worst.

 

As the bus approached Lance's stop, he felt the pocket of his jeans vibrate again. It was probably Keith, wondering where the hell he was.

And sure enough, it was.

“Hey baby.”

“Lance?” The concern in his voice was immediately apparent, making Lance grimace. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm sorry, I should have let you know that I was going to be late. I missed the first bus.”

Keith didn't even bother to hide his sigh of relief. “Oh goodness. That's okay. I'm just glad you're almost here.”

Lance stepped off the bus as he spoke. “Yeah, almost. Where are you exactly?”

“In the parking lot. I took Red instead of the bus,” he told him. “I coulda picked you up.”

“No, no, that's okay. I just have to be better at managing my time.” _Not spending it looking at shirts_.

He stepped up to the front entrance, peering around the right corner of the building to see Keith leaning against it.

“Hey, you said you're in the parking lot, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

Lance smiled. “Are you wearing ripped jeans?”

He watched Keith from his little hiding place look around, confused.

“Yeah, I am. How'd you-?”

Lance stepped out, still holding the phone up to his ear.

“You know,” he started, walking forward. “You always look amazing with your hair tied up.”

Keith nearly dropped the flowers in surprise, but quickly hid them behind his back, hoping Lance didn't see them.

Lance in turn seemed unphased, still walking toward his boyfriend.

“What? Don't I get a hi?” he teased, still speaking into his phone.

Keith was too enamored in the way Lance seemed to radiate a glow, different than the ones that he had seen before.

Beautiful was really becoming his favorite word to describe him.

“Hi,” he said breathlessly, hanging up the call so he could focus on his on personal sunshine.

Lance giggled, seeming to lose his breath, also. “Hi there, Cowboy.”

Keith's grip on the flowers tightened, pulling him back into reality.

“Oh, I have something for you.”

“Really?” Lance finally dropped the call, and tried to get a glimpse of whatever was behind Keith's back.

Not wanting Lance to ruin it for himself, he stepped back. “Yeah. Close your eyes.”

Lance sucked his teeth, but happily obliged. Keith held the sunflowers out in front of him, no longer caring about the crinkly paper.

“Okay, open.”

Lance stared down at the sunflowers, more surprised than he anticipated. They were gorgeous.

Almost as gorgeous as the boy holding them.

“Boys deserve more flowers,” Keith explained simply, blushing hard. “And they reminded me of you. Because you're bright, and beautiful.”

Lance pried his gaze from the flowers to settle on Keith's wide, honest eyes.

 _I must be on God's good list_.

He reached up, not to grab the flowers, but to cup Keith's face gently and close the gap with a strong, longing kiss.

Again, Keith nearly dropped the flowers out of pure shock.

He was just too busy melting to care.

“I wonder everyday what I possibly did to deserve you,” he told Keith softly.

Of course Keith couldn't help but giggle, since his legs felt like jello on an ever shaking plate.

_What did I possibly do to deserve you, indeed._

“Aww shucks, babe. You're tickling me pink,” said Keith, equally as soft.

Lance's smile grew. His hands found their way back to the bouquet of flowers and plucked them from Keith's grasp. He held them up to his nose, soaking in the smell.

“I feel bad for not bringing you anything,” he said, holding the flowers close.

“Well, you brought yourself,” Keith replied. “That's the most important part, I reckon.”

“Hehe, _reckon_. You're so cute.”

Keith stuck his tongue out, and Lance fought the urge to lick it like the gross boy he was.

“Come on, it's time for me to show you the wonderful world of rollerblading.”

He held out one of his hands and Keith took it gladly.

 

Inside, they both took in the atmosphere of the place. The first thing to hit Keith were the smells. It was an odd mixture of aerosol and sweat and the steady smell of cheap food.

Next was the actual interior: black carpet and walls with neon accents. It looked like a bowling alley, aside from the big area where they could hear the grunts of people purposefully crashing into each other.

And the sounds on _top_ of that. Upbeat music blasted from the speakers, and the sounds of conversation and laughter echoed over the rink.

It seemed like a pretty busy place.

That didn't stop Lance from dragging Keith up to the skate rental counter.

“Shoe size?” The man with white hair tied back into a tight, ponytail braid asked them.

“I'm a twelve. Keith?”

“Ten please.”

The man, who they observed based on his name tag was named Kolivan, grabbed each of them a pair of skates from behind the counter.

He set them down rather forcefully. “Shoes please.”

Lance was already pulling off his Vans to give to him while Keith watched, puzzled.

He took notice, however. “Take off your shoes, Keith. We gotta trade.”

“Oh.” _Like bowling_. “Gotcha.”

Kolivan, despite his stoic nature, laughed. “First time I'm guessing?”

“For him, not for me,” Lance clarified.

“Don't worry boy,” he told Keith. “Skating is easy. The hardest part is getting the damned things on.”

Keith felt a little more relieved. “Thank you.”

Kolivan smirked, taking their shoes and putting them in the cubbies behind him. Lance and Keith grabbed their skates in one hand and locked the others together, striding over to the bench against the rink partition.

“Hey, you okay?” Lance asked.

Keith nodded.

“I hope that didn't make you nervous.”

“Oh, I was already nervous. But I'm okay, I promise.”

The honestly in Keith's voice was convincing enough for Lance, and so he left it alone.

“Do you need help with those?” He pointed to Keith's skates that rested on the floor.

“I think I can get them on okay. I might need a little help with tightening them.”

Lance nodded. He watched Keith pull on the skates, waiting until he was done to start putting on his own.

“How do they feel?”

Keith stretched out his leg, flexing his toes. “Feels good to me. I don't think I need to tighten them, either.”

“When I'm done I'll help you stand, okay?”

Keith grinned. “Okay.”

Lance pulled on his skates and managed to stand, balancing confidently. He reached out and grabbed Keith by his hands to hoist him up. Unlike Lance, Keith stumbled slightly, his right leg rolling forward between Lance's legs.

“Woah there. Don't hurt yourself, Cowboy,” said Lance, holding Keith steady.

“You'll make me feel better if I do, so it's okay,” Keith told him, turning Lance traffic light red.

“You're too sweet.”

Lance helped guide Keith to open entrance of the rink, one hand on his waist to keep him from doing a classic split.

Kolivan watched them curiously, noting how much they reminded him of his late wife and himself, the first time he took her skating. It brought a genuine, nostalgic smile to his face.

He spotted the sunflowers Lance left on his countertop and scoffed.

 _What am I, a florist_? he thought to himself. He prepared to call out to them, but Lance was already taking Keith around the rink, way out of earshot.

“Hmph.”

Kolivan grabbed the flowers gently and set them on the cubby.

They would be back for them, he reasoned.

After all, he had their shoes.

 

“I still can't believe you picked up skating _that_ quick,” said an exasperated Lance.

Keith, who was now skating circles around his boyfriend, grinned.

“You were the one that said it would be easy,” he reminded him.

“Yeah but… you are _literally_ skating circles around me right now.”

Keith eased into a quick stop in front of his pouting boyfriend and grabbed his hands.

“This makes up for me not being able to dance.”

Lance could argue that one, but it was too much fun to see Keith zooming around.

“Fine. You win.” Lance leaned in and gave Keith a quick peck on the lips, admitting defeat.

“I think I like winning,” said Keith, biting his lip.

 _Too cute_.

“I bet you do.” Lance wanted kiss him more, but that BigGulp cup of soda he had earlier between skating was coming back for revenge.

His eyes shot towards the exit. “I really gotta pee. Will you be okay?”

Keith cracked an amused smile. “Yes. I'll be fine. Go pee, dork.”

Lance let out a relieved sigh, starting to skate off to the bathroom, but he quickly boomeranged back to smother Keith in a forehead kiss.

Keith loved the unexpected ones.

 

There was another guy at one of the three urinals, but he was all the way at the far end, so it wasn't awkward and Lance had his own space. After pissing out the equivalent of a two liter of Mountain Dew, he flushed and went about washing his hands. He was almost out of the bathroom when he felt his phone vibrate. Normally he would have ignored it, but it still continued, indicating a call.

He pulled out his phone and saw that it was a Florida number, but the area code was closer to home.

“Hello?” he answered.

The voice on the other line was succinct and professional, asking for him by name.

“Yes, this is Lance McClain.”

They introduced themself, and Lance froze.

“Oh, oh my god. Good afternoon, I wasn't expecting to hear from you so soon.” He paused, listening carefully. “No, of course, I'm available to talk.”

He listened to the person speak again, this time his eyes widened.

“ _Really?_ ” he exclaimed, startling the man trying to pee. He lowered his voice dramatically.

“That's amazing news. Of course I can come in, thank you for choosing me. What day?”

The other voice answered, and all the light in Lance's hopeful face died, like a bulb on its last bit of filament.

“Oh. Is that the only day you have available?”

The person's answer was obviously disappointing, as Lance's mouth hardened into a straight line.

“I see. Of course, that day is fine. I'll check my email for the details, yes. Thank you again.”

The call died, and a part of Lance died with it.

What was he going to tell Keith?

 

Keith was waiting for him at the bench by the bathroom, looking excited.

“Hey, guess what?” he asked Lance, not noticing his suddenly changed demeanor.

Lance tried his best to save face, even though the news he had was weighing him down like soaking wet clothes.

“What's up, Cowboy?”

He smiled like a man on death row getting his last meal.

Keith stood on his own, skating away to snuggle up to Lance. “I requested a song for us to skate to. I know that it's kinda cheesy.”

Even with the weight on his shoulders, Keith managed to relieve it, if only for a moment.

“That's adorable, but come sit back down. I need to tell you something.”

The veil of bliss lifted as Keith was escorted back to to bench by his now obviously upset boyfriend.

He wasn't going to let go of him, however. His hand grasped Lance's arm as a show of stability.

“What's wrong?”

Lance sighed. Looking at Keith now made it all the more difficult to come out and say. He sighed.

“I got a call just now. While I was in the bathroom.”

Keith cocked his head.

“Was it someone in your family?” Anxiousness creeped its way into his voice. “Is everyone okay?”

Lance felt the strings of his heart being pulled while hearing Keith's concern for his family.

“No, no. They're all okay.”

 _I'm not_.

“It was the NASA internship. They want me to come in for an interview.”

One second. Two seconds.

“Leandro that's _fanastic!_ ” Keith exclaimed, tugging him excitedly.

“Yeah, it is.”

His words were empty and hollow. He knew what he would say next would affect everything.

“Wait, I thought you weren't going to hear from them until April?”

There it was.

“I did. But they told me that they reviewed my application and wanted me to have an interview with the head of the internship department earlier to guarantee a spot,” he explained, every word feeling like stepping on ice.

Keith seemed elated. “Oh! What day?” His mind was racing with plans of little road trip.

“March 28th.”

Three seconds. Four.

“That's… the day of the talent show.”

Lance glanced away.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

The answer was clear.

 

As Lance waited for the bus, he felt his phone go off in his back pocket.

 _Sorry Cowboy,_ he thought to himself as he prepared to answer his boyfriend, but as he looked down at his screen he was surprised to see who it really was.

“ _Hola Mamá, qué pasa?_ ”

“Hi Leandro, my sweet boy,” Sophia McClain greeted her son in Spanish. “How are you doing?”

“I'm doing well, Mom. How are the twins, and Dad?” He peered down the street for the third time, hoping the bus would just appear out of thin air.

“Your father is busy, with work and school, but he's also doing well. The twins are a handful, as always, but nothing I can't handle,” she giggled, like a much younger woman.

Lance smiled fondly. “I'll have to visit on one of my weekends and take them off your hands.”

“That would be wonderful.” The relief in her voice was apparent to him, but he brushed it off. As he continued to stand at the stop the sound of traffic didn't escape her. “Where are you? It sounds like you're outside,” she observed.

“Yeah… I'm actually on my way to a date.”

“A date?!?”

Lance couldn't help but laugh. “Yes, Mama, your big boy is going on a big scary date.”

The date in question wasn't big or scary, but it was fun to mess with her.

“Is it with that boy? The pale one?”

 _Jesus Christ_.

“Actually, yeah, it _is_ with _Keith_.” He emphasized his name, so she wouldn't keep referring to him with such vagueness.

“When did this happen? You never told me that you were seeing him.”

Did he not tell her?

Thinking back on the last few weeks, he realized that he hadn't, and it made sense.

He was too busy falling.

“Don't worry, this is recent. We're meeting up for our first date,” he told her.

The silence on the other line was a pensive one.

“Are you happy?” she asked, somewhat hushed.

There was pause. Not of hesitation.

“Oh, I'm _so_ happy,” Lance gushed. “He's a- _maz_ -ing.”

That was enough for her. She knew that tone.

“I'm glad you have him, Lance. Just please use protection.”

The casual way she said that gave Lance whiplash.

“Jesus Christ, Mom!”

“Hey! Don't say his name in vain.”

“Sorry. But _please_. That kind of thing can go without saying, yeah?”

He heard her huff.

“I promise we'll be responsible,” he said reassuringly.

She sighed. “Okay. I believe you.”

 _Thank Jesus_.

“Before I get sidetracked, there was something I called to ask you about…”

What else could she possibly need to know?

“Oh! That's right. I was going to ask if you applied for your internship yet? Or is it too early?”

 _That_ surprised him. He hadn't mentioned the internship at all.

“Actually, I put my application in a couple weeks ago. I won't hear from them until April though.”

“Oh. I see.”

She didn't sound very… impressed.

“You know Leandro, there's a camp opening this summer and they're looking for a dance teacher.” Her tone was very suggestive, and almost insulting.

His heart sank. He knew she didn’t know about his show, and yet...

“Mom. It's been _eleven years_.”

“I know,” she said softly. “But it's just an idea. Just in case-”

 _You don't make it in. Again_.

“Sure. That sounds like fun.” It took all Lance had to not sound bitter. “But I'll talk to you later about it, okay? The bus is here.”

It was still a block away, but she didn't need to know.

“Okay, honey. I love you.”

Lance couldn't bring himself to smile.

“ _Te amo, Mamá._ ”

There was a quick shuffling sound and then the line went dead.

 _At least_ , he thought to himself. _I get to see Keith._

Maybe he could talk to him about it.

 

“Keith. I have to go. I have no choice.”

His mother's words were branded into his memory. This was his chance.

“Okay, but what are we going to tell Allura?” Keith understood the importance of the interview over the talent show, but Lance needed to tell Allura so he could get pulled out properly.

“We don't have to tell her anything. Why are you even mentioning her?” The uncharacteristic bitterness to Lance's voice left Keith on high alert.

“I'm just saying we should tell her that you’re quitting the show-”

“God, the _show._ Is that all you care about?” Lance hissed.

The panic was back.

“Lance, honey, no I-”

 _Honey_.

“Can't I just do this without the whole world knowing? Am I just your show pony?”

“No, you're not but-”

“I'm not _you_ , okay? I'm not ever going be like you. This is my actual future so can we _please_ stop talking about the show!”

All panic was replaced with burning, irrefutable anger.

“Excuse me?” Keith suddenly stood, and Lance's own words echoed back.

_He's not the one that you're actually angry at. Take it back._

“Keith-”

“Look, I'm sorry that you think what I do, and what Allura and Shiro do, for that matter, is so meaningless, but we have futures too. And maybe I need to rethink mine.”

Those were bold words.

Keith waited for Lance to say something, anything that would maybe draw out forgiveness, but his boyfriend was struck with sudden silence.

“I can't believe you.” Keith tried to stomp away, but the skates just did their own thing, sending him toward and nearly knocking him off balance. In his frustration he pulled off the skates one after the other.

“Keith please I'm sorry I'm-”

“You know, I get that the NASA internship is important but the _least_ you could do is not treat the people who care about you like crap for supporting something you seemed interested in.”

Keith was already at the counter, ready to trade in his shoes, while Lance sat dumbly, still not responding, his fists closed.

“Allura was so proud of you, ya know. It might not mean anything but she was… and I was too. But I guess it only means something when you actually benefit, right?” Keith's words were like small daggers, stinging him on the outside and making his insides feel like scrambled eggs.

“Kei-Cowboy, I-” Lance tried to speak, but he was cut off again.

“Don't ‘ _Cowboy’_ me, Lance. All you ever had to say was no. I would have just accepted that from the beginning but hey, at least I know how you really feel, right?”

Kolivan was at the counter now, and he didn't look very pleased.

“Is there a problem?” he asked Keith, who was obviously red with anger and skateless.

“I just want my shoes please.”

The buff skate renter glanced between the two and noticed the obvious tension hanging in the air.

He leaned in as he grabbed the skates to speak softly in Keith ear.

“Did that boy hurt you?”

Lance stared straight down, slumped in defeat, knowing that nothing he could say now would fix things.

Keith shook his head, and Kolivan gave him back his shoes.

“Don't let your ego hit you on the way out,” he told Lance, walking away with his shoes held high and head head low.

Kolivan watched him curiously, and as he reached the door, he turned to Lance.

“What, are you just going to let him walk away?”

His response took Lance by surprise.

“What's the point if he's right?”

Kolivan, despite his gruff nature, laughed.

“Just because he's right don’t mean you can't fix it.”

Realization dawned on him. It wasn't too late.

“Can I-?” Lance pointed down to his skates.

“Hurry up. Don't lose him.”

With a new sudden energy inside him Lance leapt from the bench and skated out of the door.

“Keith wait!!!” He scanned the parking lot for the bold red Camero, but it was nowhere to be seen. Lance turned and skated hastily down to the streetside sidewalk, hoping that maybe there was a chance that he could tail him. As crazy as that sounded, Keith needed to know that he really was sorry, and there were things he needed to talk about rather than lash out at his boyfriend.

The street was empty. He missed him.

Lance sank down onto his knees, guilt weighing him down.

“Keith!” he wailed.

The sky cracked open, and the rain fell with no mercy.

 

Shiro heard slamming outside of the bathroom; at first he thought it was just Keith arriving home from his date but it continued, sounding frantic and random.

“Keith? You here?” Shiro popped his head out of the bathroom, trying to find his roomate. The noises continued so Shiro tightly wrapped his towel around him and left the bathroom to step into Keith's side of the dorm.

“Keith?”

The younger boy was throwing open draws and tossing random clothes into an overnight bag, which was the cause of most of the ruckus. He finally took notice of his roommate, standing there naked and concerned.

Keith quickly wiped his face of any residual tears and managed a less heartbroken expression.

“Oh hey Shiro. Um, can you take my car and drive me to the airport?” he asked, in the most normal sounding voice that shouldn't have come from someone so upset.

“Uh, yeah but um, you okay? How was your date?” His behavior was odd, but not exactly giving Shiro any red flags.

The question struck Keith right in the heart, and all of the hurt came flooding back.

“I just…” He choked back a sob. “I want my mom.”

 

* * *

 

2015 was an odd year, and as Keith prepared to go off to college in a week, he felt odd about leaving a place he had stayed in for so long. It really was a home, and though he knew he would be welcomed back, he was also growing with excitement for the new life he would have in Florida. So far, and yet, home would a skip away.

He sat downstairs in the living room. The other kids were put to bed, but he had the privilege of getting to stay up late, per Gammaw. Currently fixated on the newest season of _Space Ranger Partners_ , he watched on as the rare sound of rain pounded the windows.

The pounding sound increased, until Keith was sure it wasn't the rain and instead someone knocking at the front door. Gammaw was in the dining room looking over bills so he left her to get it. Chances were it would be Mallorie, back from her dad's. She always forgot her key.

The extra sound stopped quickly, and the normal sound of rain returned. Keith watched intently as one of the robots from the team took a pretty big blow, his knees hugging his chest. Another fighter was about to swarm them, and he grew nervous.

“Keith? Can you come in here?”

Gammaw's sudden call made him jump, but he paused the show to go up to the front door.

There were two county policemen and a little girl with blonde hair weighed down by rain standing in their doorway.

Gammaw had an unreadable expression, and yet Keith had seen it enough that it told him everything.

Another orphan.

“Keith,” her voice was gentle, for the sake of the girl. “Take miss Elle here to the living room and get her towel from upstairs while I talk to these two gentlemen.”

“Yes ma'am,” he nodded, and reached out his hand for her to take. She stared at it, as if it was a snake coming to bite her, but Keith offered his friendliest smile.

 _I won't hurt you_.

She seemed to sense his kindness as genuine, and took his hand.

Keith always marveled at the fact the kids were so small; her hand was as big as his palm.

It was always hard, to try and comfort kids who he knew lost their parents. He guessed it was an accident by the presence of the police.

In the better light, he saw that her tan skin was covered in white, pigmentless blotches. Was it the skin disorder he always heard about? Viti-something?

He tried to not obviously stare. He never met someone who looked like her before but she was just a kid. He wasn't going to ask her about it.

“Just through here,” he told her, stepping from the dining room into the living room. He led her to the couch and had her sit. She was so soaked that she squelched as she sat.

“I'm gonna get you a towel, okay? Can you stay here?”

She nodded. Keith unpaused the show so that she had something to look at while he went upstairs. It didn't take him long and he grabbed two towels for good measure. She seemed interested in the show, and Keith smile despite knowing the situation.

“You like it?” he asked, startling her slightly. He handed her the towels.

“Yeah. It's space, right?” She draped one around her shoulders and the other she laid out to sit on.

“Yeah. Space and giant fighting robots.” He made a few generic fighting moves, slicing at the air, earning giggle.

“It's really cool.” She swung out her legs, and her mouth was tight, as if she wanted to say something.

“My mommy and daddy… Are they-?”

Sudden dread filled his stomach. This was the worst part.

Keith nodded. “I'm sorry.”

The girl, Elle, stared at the floor.

“I saw the police put the white things over them.”

The white sheets. The death sheets.

“A big truck hit us. I saw. And it was scary.”

This poor girl had to be no older than eight and yet she had a full understanding of a fatal accident. What was this world they were living in?

“I saw you look at my spots.” Keith turned away slightly in embarrassment. “Mommy said I had special skin. I was touched by God. Is that true?”

Keith, who had no religious affiliation but knew all about God from people at school just smiled and played along.

“Yeah, I think so. It looks like he booped ya right… here.” He poked the spot on her cheek and she giggled again. It was better than her crying.

He wanted to keep her distracted and happy, but he was really bad at small talk. An idea struck him.

“Hey Elle, do you like to paint?”

 

After a few pictures Keith resigned to letting Elle give him “special skin”: painted splotches of color all over his face and arms.

She gave him a pink heart on his wrist to match hers, a blue splat on his face, yellow and green spots all over. He looked like a chameleon that couldn't decide on a color.

“I feel like a pretty princess,” he told her,and she beamed, admiring her handy work.

“Keith?” Gammaw called out. “Can you come into the dining room please?”

“I'll be right back,” he assured her, standing from his spot on the floor.

“Okay Keef.”

The way she said his name melted his heart. He really hoped that she could stay.

In the dining room Gammaw sat with the two police officers, and from the tense atmosphere it seemed they had just finished a serious conversation.

Gammaw glanced up. “Keith the- boy what is all over your face?”

Keith shrugged. “Paint.”

She let out a deep sigh. “Christ. Okay. The police would like to talk to Elle alone for a minute. They just need to ask her a few questions before they take her away.”

_Take her away?_

“Wait, I thought she was staying here? Gammaw she's gotta stay here!”

“Keith. She's from a whole nother county and the foster system there was already notified. They have full right to take her.”

“But I've kept her busy and she's comfortable here, you can't just drop her somewhere else. Those other kids are gonna eat her alive.”

“Keith you know I want nothing more than to take her in but it's really not up to me, as these gentlemen have explained it. I'm sorry but she's leaving.”

He felt his shoulder sag. It wasn't fair. She needed more than to be stuck in a system that didn't care. She needed someone to look out for her.

“Okay.”

The cops stood and made their way into the living room while Keith sat across from Gammaw. She could see the defeat in his eyes.

“You can't save them all, Keith,”   hardest to try and have her stay. It wasn't the first time a kid left, but this one felt different.

“Can I at least say goodbye to her?”

“Of course you can.”

They sat, waiting for the cops to come back. They were only asking her a couple questions about what she saw, but they knew for the most part the real reason behind the accident.

It didn't take long, and they were back shortly.

“Alright, we have everything we need. She wants to see you,” said one of the officers to Keith. “Make it quick.”

Keith left the room quickly and made it back to the couch where Elle was admired her own painting, a beautiful sunset.

She noticed him coming from the corner of her eye and held out the paper for him.

“Keef! Here, I want you to have this.” Her prideful smile was heart wrenching.

He carefully lifted the paper from her hand and admired it. “This is really pretty. I'll hang it up after you leave.”

“Leave?” Her face suddenly scrunched in confusion. “I thought I was staying.”

Keith frowned. “No, they want to bring you to a place closer to home.”

“But I don't wanna go there. I like it here.”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

Her small hands balled up into angry little fists. “I wanna stay.”

“Elle please-”

“I wanna stay with Keef!!!!!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.

The policemen and Gammaw both stepped into the living room, wondering what the sudden fuss was about.

“What is going on in here?” asked one of the men.

Elle was now flailing her arms. “I wanna stay with Keef! I wanna stay with Keef!”

The three adults glared at Keith accusingly. He lifted his hands in a gesture of innocence.

“I didn't do anything!”

One of the officers approached her calmly and knelt in front of her.

“Miss King, you have to come with us, okay? We have to bring you to a new home.” He reached out to grab her but she leapt from the couch and attached herself to Keith’s leg. On instinct, he placed a protective hand on her back.

“I’m _not_ going.”

Gammaw watched her curiously. She had seen plenty of children act up, but this one seemed more... deliberate.

“You know, officers, I feel like she should have a say,” she said, earning doubtful looks. “When a child acts like that, she has a reason.”

The policemen glanced at each other.

“That’s just my experience.”

“We’ll uh, we’ll call someone.”

Keith couldn’t help but grin victoriously.

_Yes!_

Gammaw escorted the police back into the dining room, trailing behind them. Keith caught the not so subtle wink she threw in his direction, a guarantee that things were going to go exactly they way they wanted.

“I'm gonna stay?” Elle’s voice was small and hopeful, just the way Keith felt.

“Ya know, I think so.” Keith rubbed her back and she smiled deviously.

What a smart kid.

She broke her grip on his leg in favor of sitting on the couch. Her face broke into a yawn, not surprising considering how late it was getting.

“Are you getting sleepy?” She nodded. “I'll grab you a blanket.”

“Thanks Keef.”

As Keith went upstairs Elle sank down on her side and fell under the grips of sleep.  She was exhausted, and was asleep by the time he can back.

“Oh boy. She's tuckered out,” he said to himself. Unfolding the blanket, he draped it over her carefully. She twitched slightly, and he jumped back, but it only was to get more comfortable.

“Night, princess.”

He could have sworn she smiled.

It would be a few days later that Keith would find out that the cause of the accident. Her parents overdosed on opioids, and stopped in the middle of the intersection. Had they gone any further, Elle would have never made it.

A chill ran down his spine.

That girl deserved so much more.

 

* * *

 

 

Keith stirred from place on the couch, throwing off the blanket that tangled his legs. All the lights were off, except the one in the dining room.

It didn't surprise him that he had fallen asleep again. He hardly left the living room since arriving on Friday.

 

Keith stood at the front of the Houston airport, twisting the handle of his overnight bag nervously. He was having a hard time finding signal after having his phone on airplane mode for two hours, and he really needed to make a call.

The sun was starting to set, but the gentle rays felt good against his skin. This was crazy. Running away from problems was one thing, but he had taken it to another level.

 _I can't believe I'm here_.

A few hours ago Keith was on a date, happier than ever. Now… he didn't know how to feel.

Lance. Oh, _Lance_.

Keith shook his head. Now was not the time.

His phone's vibration startled him; it meant his signal was back.

Keith held up his phone, almost dreading to see who it was. If it was Lance…

 

 **Skunk Face:** _hey. did you make it?_

 

It was only Shiro. Good.

Keith sent out a quick reply and pulled up his dial pad. Hopefully she would answer.

He held the phone to his ear, listening to it ring. And ring. And ring…

“Hello?”

“Hey Mal. I'm at the airport. Ya think you could take me to Mom's?”

 

Mallorie wished she could stay to comfort her brother, but she had school.

“Keith. I really hope you feel better. No boy is worth it.” She told him as they pulled up to the farm house.

“I know Mal.” His voice was heavy.

She gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “You need Mom's hot chocolate.”

Keith couldn't help but laugh.

“That hot chocolate seems to solve everything. It could end a war,” he joked, feeling the slightest bit happier.

“There he is.” She tousled his hair. “I wish I could stay. But I'll be back Sunday.”

“Thanks again, loser.”

“You're welcome, dork.”

The walk up the porch steps seemed longer than it was with his heavy heart weighing him down, his steps sluggish. Despite that he managed to make it to the door, and knocked hard.

He could hear Gammaw mumbling to herself behind the door.

“Who in the hell would be knocking at my door at this time of night?” She threw open the door.

“Oh.”

Keith said nothing, only wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug.

“Keith? What are you doing here?” Not that she was complaining.

“I just… wanted to see my mom,” he sniffled, still holding her.

“Well, come inside. You'll catch a cold just standing out here.”

 

The warm mug against his hands was a comfort he didn't know he needed, but he was sure thankful for it.

Gammaw settled in the spot next to him, her own mug sitting in her lap.

“So. Are you ready to talk?”

Keith stared down at the warm, frothy liquid. Was he?

He shook his head. There was so much to explain.

“That's okay. Just drink your cocoa.”

They sipped in unison.

“Mmmhm.” Keith sighed. Perfect, as always.

“I shouldn't really take credit for this recipe,” she said in response to his positive sigh. “Clay taught me how to make cocoa when we were still kids.”

Clay was Mallorie’s dad. She hardly ever brought him up.

“Oh, really?” he asked, caught in curiosity.

“The secret was adding cinnamon and nutmeg together for that nuttiness, and a dash of salt,” she sipped hers again. “He always told me that I was the only girl he ever trusted with it. It was the first sign of love, I reckon.”

Keith's stomach twisted.

“You don't have to tell me what's wrong right now. But just know whatever it is, I'll understand. Okay?”

“Okay Mom.” He spoke quietly. “I love you.”

She grinned. There was her boy.

“I love you too, Keith.” She stood. “I'll grab you a blanket and you can stay down here. I don't want the other kids to ask questions.”

He appreciated that. He wouldn't know what to say anyway.

She went back to the dining room and pulled one of the spare blankets from the bottom of the china cabinet.

“Here.” She handed it off to him. “You get some rest, okay? I'll need your help with breakfast in the morning.”

Keith cracked a smile. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

“No sass.” Gammaw waved her finger at him. “Good night.”

“Good night, Ma.”

 

The next day was a blur. He helped with breakfast and of course the kids were excited to see him. They didn't really ask any questions but when Jaime came downstairs he brought up Lance, and it shut him down real quick. Gammaw took notice and sent him back to the living room while she talked to Jaime about it.

He hated feeling this way. He didn't even know what the status was between them, but he was pretty sure they were broken up.

The kids huddled around him from time to time on the couch, and about after lunch he remembered laying down for a nap.

Now he was awake and would be up for a while.

There was an odd noise coming from the dining room. It almost sounded like… laughing.

Keith stretched and cracked his neck. The couch was definitely more comfortable for smaller kids.

Slowly he rose from couch and walked to the dining room, listening harder. Was that… _music_?

He peered around the doorway and saw someone spinning Gammaw around. He was a tall, dark skinned man, with a rugged face and graying facial hair. If he had to say he looked like anyone, it was an older Idris Elba.

The two laughed like old friends, and even he struck Keith as someone familiar.

Gammaw caught sight of Keith standing in the doorway and waved.

“Oh hi, dear! Come here and sit, we wanted to talk to you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Leave a comment, or ramble to me on Tumblr!
> 
> mr-mustache-penis.tumblr.com


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